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UNITED STATES OF AMEEIOA. 



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WORKS BY 

LOUISA PARSONS HOPKINS, 

Teacher of Normal Methods in the Swain 
Free School, New Bedford. 

• 

HANDBOOK OF THE EARTH. — Natural 

Methods in Geography $0.50 

NATURAL-HISTORY PLAYS. — Dialogues 

and Recitations for School Exhibitions. 

Boards net, .30 

PSYCHOLOGY IN EDUCATION 50 

PRACTICAL PEDAGOGY ; or, The Science of 

Teaching Illustrated 1.50 

MOTHERHOOD. Full gilt 1.50 

BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE . 1.25 

♦ 

LEE AND 8HEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 

BOSTON. 



HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT 1 



PRACTICAL PEDAGOGY 



THE SCIENCE OF TEACHING 
ILLUSTRATED 



BY 




LOUISA P. HOPKINS 




BOSTON 
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 

NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 
1887 






Copyright, iSS6, by Lee and vShepakd. 
A/l Rights Reserved. 

MOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 



Electrotyped by 
C. J. Peters and Son, Boston. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Babe in the Mother's Arms i 

II. After the Kindergarten 6 

III. A Year's Experiment in Teaching 12 

IV. The Opening School 20 

V. The Key-Note 25 

VI. Arithmetic 31 

the class in arithmetic:— 

ITS introduction to compound numbers, 36 

introduction to finance 45 

VII. Nature Lessons 55 

VIII. Reading to the Children 68 

IX. Oral Lessons 73 

on birds 11 

IN botany — i., ii., iii., iv "^1 

iii. 



IV CONTENTS. 

X. Primary Class in Physics iii 

XI. Primary Class in Physiology — i., ii., iii., iv., v. . 136 

vi. THE senses 161 

vii. THE EYE 164 

viii. THE SENSE OF HEARING l68 

ix. VITAL ORGANS: — THE HEART I74 

THE LUNGS I76 

THE DIGESTIVE ORGANS I78 

XII. The Primary Teacher: Her Work and Her 

Fitness for it 183 

XIII. An Address to Primary-School Teachers . . 197 

XIV. The Science of Primary Teaching 207 

XV. Parables ; Laws of Nature and Life, or Sci- 
ence applied to Character 238 



PREFACE. 



The following papers were published during 
eight years in the Primary Teacher, edited by 
W. E. Sheldon. They have the virtue of being 
immediate reports of actual work with a class of 
children whose growth from childhood to later 
youth has justified the methods of that early 
education. 

A protest against the amount of work claimed 
for one year called out the appreciative explan- 
ation of Col. T. Wentworth Higginson, which I 
append, knowing that my cause is secure in the 
hands of such a champion of right education. 

Louisa P. Hopkins. 



MRS. HOPKINS' "YEAR'S EXPERIMENT.'^ 



By Thomas Wbntworth Higginson. 



"THE WRONG HANDLE." 

" All things," says Epictetus, '' have two 
handles : beware of the wrong one." I have 
never seen the wrong handle more distinctly used 
than in the criticisms, public and private, on the 
essay " A Year's Experiment," by Mrs. Hopkins, 
published in the November number of the 
Primary Teacher. 

The essay gave the extraordinary results of a 
year's teaching, applied to a class of girls by a 
teacher of thorough training and much experience, 
but who had happily escaped what may be 
called the "ruts " of our public-school system. 

The difference of attitude of the writer and her 
critics seems at first bewildering ; but a little 
examination will explain it. Perhaps. an illustra- 



Vlll COLONEL HIGGINSOX'S LETTER, 

tion will help. I know a scientific man who made 
a calculation of the amount of space travelled, in 
a single day, by his boy of four years. I forget 
the amount, but it was something stupendous. 
If it had been announced in the public prints 
that any child of that age had been compelled to 
walk one-half that distance along a public road, 
between sunrise and sunset, the Society for the 
Prevention of Cruelty to Children would have in- 
terfered. They would have shown, by irresistible 
argument, that the task was atrocious ; and they 
would have been quite right, had it been done 
under compulsion. Yet there is the fact that, 
when the child is left to itself, it accomplishes 
twice the amount, and calls it play. 

We touch here the precise difference. Looked 
at from the point of view of the average public 
school, I should think that Mrs. Hopkins' state- 
ment would appear an outrage. For this point of 
view would be like measuring the miles along the 
road. Public-school teachers, reading the essay, 
assume that the author has produced their results, 
by their methods. Not at all : she has produced 
her own results, by her own methods. It is evi- 
dent from her statement that the children enjoyed 



. COLONEL HIGGINSON'S LETTER. ix 

themselves as they went along. In my own case 
there is the additional evidence derived from a 
personal knowledge of Mrs. Hopkins herself, and 
from the firm conviction that she would not over- 
work children, and would not ''cram." Of course 
this is private knowledge, but it seems to me that 
the article carries its own evidence on that point. 
I must say, frankly, that I do not think it 
possible for the best public-school teacKer to 
render justice to what can be done for a picked 
class of young children whose minds are fresh 
and unspoiled. Public schools have many strong 
merits, but their size and their mixed material 
give very little chance for the kind of talent in 
teacher or scholar which produces great individual 
results. Consequently, all steps which look to- 
ward fresh and natural methods have to be tried 
in private schools first. Public schools for drill, 
no doubt, and for mutual action of mind ; but 
private schools for freshness and originality. 

It was the theory of Horace Mann, and nobody 
has ever got beyond it, that all knowledge is 
naturally attractive to a child, and that it is our 
fault if he does not love it all. It is idle to say 
that there is no royal road to knowledge. Prob- 



X COLONEL HIGGINSON'S LETTER. 

ably the most extraordinary intellectual feat 
we perform in all our lives is the learning to 
spell onr own language ; and this we do so easily 
and early that we do not remember anything about 
it. If we could learn to make other intellectual 
feats as attractive and natural, they too could be 
done, in their turn, without tears. Take as illustra- 
tion the different things taught by Mrs. Hopkins. 
When her critics hear that her young pupils 
learned to speak French and German, they are 
appalled ; for they think of long and weary 
lessons in Ollendorff or Fasquelle. But all ex- 
perience shows that if you take children early 
enough, and surround them with people speaking 
different languages, they will learn two or three 
of these as easily as one, and with a purity of 
accent that shames their more learned elders. 
So in history : when Mrs. Hopkins says of her 
pupils, " They had quite a clear vision of the 
course of events in this country for two hundred 
years," she says what is perfectly practicable ; it 
can be safely claimed that hundreds of children 
ten years old have learned the same by simply 
reading and re-reading, to please themselves, the 
work she names as a text-book. 



COLONEL HIGGINSON'S LETTER. XI 

When one critic says, *' No child of ten ought 
to memorize enough to remember the leading 
events in our country for the last two hundred 
years," we see the point of view of the public 
school. In these schools the ''leading events" 
are often held to include the number of killed and 
wounded on each side in every battle of the 
American Revolution. But this is just the method 
which Mrs. Hopkins sets aside ; and experience 
shows that her success, on her method, is perfectly 
practicable. So, when we turn to the other studies 
mentioned, we see the same influence of a wise 
teacher availing herself of the natural action of the 
childish mind. Who that has taught natural his- 
tory to children, in outdoor lessons, in summer, 
cannot see that this formidable '' Zoology and 
Botany" may be so presented as to be a delight.? 
They are such things as children learn in vacation, 
under right guidance, and call it play. So with 
even grammar and arithmetic, as here described. 
The difference between a natural and an arbitrary 
mode of presenting them is simply the difference 
between rowing with the current or against it. 

Thus the whole paper is to me — interpreting it, 
no doubt, with personal knowledge of the author — 



Xll COLO X EL lUGGLNSON'S LETTER. 

something very much like the scientific calculation 
of my friend as to the miles traversed by his little 
boy. Having carried her pupils easily along, Mrs. 
Hopkins looks round with amazement to see how 
far she has brought them. Any teacher who 
begins by summing up the miles is taking hold 
of the wrong handle, whether it be done for 
censure or imitation. But any teacher who will 
observe and imitate the methods of nature will 
have reason to be astonished, I am sure, at the 
distance easily traversed, whether in a day or a 
year. — Womaii s Journal of January 19, 1878. 



HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 



CHAPTER I. 



THE BABE IN THE MOTHER S ARMS ; OR, PRIMARY 
TEACHING. 

We are accustomed to apply this expression, 
Primary Teaching, to a secondary stage of educa- 
tion which begins with the primary school ; but 
there is undoubtedly an earlier teaching, which 
begins with the opening senses and perceptions of 
the babe in its mother's arms. The attention of 
scientists is already turned to this era of educa- 
tion, and Frobel has formulated its stages to 
some extent. We might go back of even that 
for the primary teaching, and suggest instruction 
for the mother in the very beginnings of her 
relations with her child, as the former of its 
being; but for the present we limit ourselves to 
the consideration of the education which begins 
with the cradle. 



2 NO IV SHALL MV CHLLD BE TAUGHT? 

The little unconscious pupil is to be moulded 
by the most intangible influences. It is impossi- 
ble to analyze the sympathy and love which 
emanate from the true mother, and which are the 
life-elements of the babe's atmosphere. How 
barren are the regulations of the nurse and 
physician, compared with the vital force of the 
mother's absorbed interest ! She is content to 
hold it in her arms day and night, breathing out 
her love. It may be that a constant magnetic 
current is still flowing between the child and 
mother as a channel of growth. Her presence in 
itself is a gentle stimulus to its development. If 
we would learn from nature, let us receive this 
fact as an indication of one important element in 
the subsequent stages of the child's education. 
First, an atmosphere must be created in which 
the formative agencies can work ; a magnetic 
current of sympathy must flow between pupil 
and teacher, which shall bear freely upon its 
course all that the teacher has to give and the 
pupil may receive. 

Again, the mother follows her loving instinct in 
s-ivin": to her cradled babe what it shows a desire 
for, — not forcing a succession of facts upon its 



THE BABE IN THE MOTHER'S ARMS. 3 

attention ; she gives it time to perceive and receive 
a distinct image or impression, and then to rest. 
She neither urges the babe to concentration, nor 
seeks to divert it when concentrated. She is 
happy if she be not trying to straiten herself and 
her child to the rules of society or the maxims 
of critical aunts and those unnatural dowagers 
who think the baby should be managed so as to 
be most easily forgotten and left out of the 
family calculations. My chief abhorrence is that 
woman who ridicules a young mother's devotion ; 
who would have the sensitive babe left to in- 
different and ignorant nurses, or to the terrifying 
phantoms and lonely darkness of its worse than 
orphaned cradle, while the false or misguided 
mother entertains her society friends or reads 
the latest novel. I could summon Ivan Ivano- 
vitch to cleave the head of that cold-hearted 
woman with his honest axe, as he did that of the 
Siberian mother who threw her children to the 
howling wolves. I could stand by at such a 
drama and say, " Well done, true and honest 
avenger ; God's man in God's place." 

The gospel of the earliest education is the 
motherly instinct, the highest and oldest revela- 



4 NOJV SI/ALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

tion of the law and pattern of primary teaching. 
Frobel was able to announce its formulae only 
by abandoning his mind to the observation of the 
mother's instinctive methods ; that was his 
domain of discovery. I remember an occasion 
when two young mothers, thoroughly obedient to 
that instinct, attended a lecture by an apostle of 
child-culture. They were amused by the assump- 
tion of originality on the part of the lecturer. 
The maxims laid down were to them axioms, as 
they have been to every genuine mother since the 
world began. Fortunately for the race of man, 
the mothers have been taught by a higher 
authority than even Frobel, if they enter upon 
their vocation obedient to the heavenly vision 
which is vouchsafed them at the cradle. 

Nevertheless, something is gained by a logical 
statement and analysis of these natural methods 
of the nursery. The danger is that the statement 
will become one-sided — that with the inertia 
and momentum of an enthusiastic idealist, the 
development of a svstem of child-culture will be 
excessive in one direction ; the harmony of nature 
will be destroyed. Let us be careful how we 
introduce our hard lines too early into the free 



THE BABE IN THE MOTHER'S ARMS. 5 

drawing of nature's plan. We should follow, not 
Frobel, but the child, and make up our system 
with a breadth commensurate with the infinite 
play of its unfolding faculties. 

BABY'S OBJECT LESSON. 

The babe in the swinging cradle 

Lifts his fair, dimpled hand, 
All rosy and soft, and waving 

With a gesture of command. 

His blue eyes gaze in wonder 

At the tapering fingers spread ; 
Who knows what dawning fancies 

They waken in his head ? 

He sees them glow in the sunshine, 

He watches their shadows dim, 
While he hears the tender music 

His mother sings to him. 

Fair dream of form and color, 

Of motion and beauty bright. 
Of light and shadow and music. 

Of rhythmic, true delight. 

Now the pretty lesson is over, 

The dainty hand dro]3s low, 
The curtain of sleep is falling 

On all that the babe may know. 



CHAPTER 11. 

AFTER THE KINDERGARTEN. 

Here is a class fresh from the awakening love- 
training of the kindergarten, and ready for the 
next step in the beautiful unfolding of a true edu- 
cation. Their observing and constructive facul- 
ties are all alive and waiting for material to grasp 
and use. Shall they go on with plays and mere 
preparation still, or shall we give them more essen- 
tial work to do, — the discovery of the elements 
of science, — the ground-work of all the compli- 
cated system of human knowledge ? 

If we observe such a class of children, we shall 
find their senses on the alert and their memory 
\cry impressible and retentive. They see, and 
love to see, the most minute details, and are sus- 
ce})tible of much training in making special obser- 
vations ; they also learn facts easily, and the mem- 
ory stores up permanently all in whicli they 
have an active interest. Now is the time for 
I heir senses to observe, and for the memory to 

6 



AFTER THE KINDERGARTEN. 7 

make a lasting impression of what is observed. The 
education of the senses should be carried on in 
the legitimate field of observation, — the material 
works of Nature. The eye should be trained to 
discern form, color, size, motion ; the ear to hear 
and discriminate varieties of sound, and all the 
senses to occupy themselves in gathering informa- 
tion. What a store of facts may be discovered 
and laid up in the mind for future arrangement ! 
Animate and inanimate Nature — an open book, 

— plants and animals, earths, rocks, clouds, and 
stars, invite the senses to examine, inspire the 
child with a thirst for the knowledge that may be 
gained by his original observation. He wants to 
learn for himself, to work with his own tools ; 
nothing escapes his memory which is so graven in 
by a lively interest. A chance must be given him 
to see, to hear, or to handle something of the 
world about him. Select for him specimens, put 
them before him — the snow, the rain, ice, wind, 

— lead him to find out what he can of them, with- 
out telling him ; spring comes, the trees beckon, 
the birds call, breezes entice, perfumes allure ; 
take him into the woods, as Mr. Emerson took his 
classes, show him the leaves till he learns their 



o HOW SI/ALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

distinctive points, till his eye grows quick to 
count the pine-needles in their sheaths by twos 
and threes and fives, till his ear detects the shades 
of tone which the differing foliage gives to yEolian 
breezes ; or follow Agassiz to the islands and 
shores, with dredge and microscopes, and let the 
learner make discoveries there. No living or un- 
living thing within his grasp, on land or sea, 
eludes the examination of his senses. What is 
there in all the books so valuable to him as what 
he will learn without them } To philosophize and 
systematize .? that he may postpone. Fill his cells 
with honey first, and the future pupa will thrive in 
time, 

I am more and more convinced that children 
should be led into these pleasant paths of natural 
observation very early, while they have a marked 
love for it, to find that the revelation of knowledge 
is direct to each one that hungers and thirsts for 
it, and it is the first business of the teacher to 
create this hunger by putting appetizing food 
before the scholar, not cramming it down his 
throat in doses of books ; let him look at the 
beautiful fruit until his mouth waters for it ; let 
him taste it by so much as he can put into his 



AFTER THE KIXDERGARTEX. 9 

own mouth at once, and he will learn to love it, 
and will not be satisfied but with more and more 
as he is able to digest it. The teacher is with 
him, not to examine for him, not to force the 
result of another's observation upon him, not even 
to examine him, but to direct his senses, to stimu- 
late his desire, to present the essential points of 
the object before him, and to preserve an underly- 
ing method in his observations of which he is as 
yet unconscious ; so there will be little need of 
mere recitation. Will the child forget a secret of 
Nature which she "herself has revealed to him ? 
Never; he is more receptive and patiently observ- 
ant then he will ever be again if this opportunity 
is neglected. 

But when shall the primer and the arithmetic 
be brought in ? shall no: the child now learn to 
read and count ? Yes, this is indeed the time, 
before he is impatient of little things, for him to 
acquire, by a simple act of his ready and enduring 
memory, many things which must be gained, and 
are better gained, at the start. But excite his 
enjoyment in learning by sympathy and activity, 
combine concerted and audible repetition with 
physical exercise, — mind, body, and soul all 



lO 



now SUM I M\ (■/////> /</■ ]'Ar(;ilT? 



workini; together as ihoy should ; liis constructivc- 
iu\ss hc][\s him Ic* put letters aud si>un(ls toL;"ctluM-, 
to build up s\'llahK\s, \\n>rils, ami scnlcuccs, to 
(.-oiniuit ti^ UKMuorv chau^i;cs in the li^rnis of \voi\ls, 
as the conju^i;-ations aud deelensious, and ti) be- 
eouie familiar, after Sauveur's method, with words 
and i^hrases in other lani;uaL;es than his own. 
How mueh of all this may be uKule a pastime and 
be all the m(H"e thoroughly aecpiired fiM" fuluie use, 
and thus the iouiulation be laid [ox a true and 
generous eullure ! 

Tiiere arc such gTcat differences in children as 
to their a})prchcnsion of moral truths, still uumc of 
spiritual truths, that the work must be quite indi- 
vidu 1 in this ilcycloi^mcnt ; but what a healtliy 
insjMratiiMi, ])crhaps creatiye jnnvcM-, ccMiies from 
all this study of Nature! With a reverent L^uide, 
they feel the nearness and the i;"oodness of the 
wise and lovine; All-Father in all thit they search 
into ; thcN' trace Ids thought there, and learn to 
]o\-e him ; a perception L;rows within them of 
sonicthini; he is ready to whisper to their secret 
hearts, until they listen for that conscience-word 
and let it i;overn them. Such recc)L;nition is the 
germ of all spiritual life, — I had almost said its 



Ai'Ti.N Til! M.\ ni-k\;.ik' ri'.y. w 

fl()VV(M-, — niid is waitin;;- to s])iini;' up '\\\ the heart 
of childhood ; it takes toot in (V^vy principK's of 
lift\ and i;rows into viilnc, ic^.;ulalin;;- the instituis 
nioi'c suiH'ly than i)rc'(H'i)t s, and (K'Vidopin;; Ih;^ 
hi'^hest cdiaraclcM- nuitdi hettiM" than aibiliaiy codes. 
To hiin;;' my thonL'hIs to a fotais on this suh- 
H\d, — what sliall he attempted for the child who 
comes from the kinderi;"artcn all I'cady to leain, 
hut as yet unac(|uaintc(l vvitli hooks ? [ answer, 
all, and moi-e than all, that may he found in eh'- 
mentary treatises in every department of natural 
science may be _i;iven him in object -lessons, in a 
comparatively short time, with what is of vastly 
more impoi taiuH' an enthusiast ic: love for tlieso 
studies, a habit ol carelul obsiM'vat ion, and a tiain- 
in<;- of the sens(\s which shall be a ;;-reat addition 
to his power in science, art, or practii'al life. lie 
may at llu; same tiiue lay up in his memoiy the 
j^i'ouud facts of wiitlen and spoken lan!;uai;e and 
mathematics. TIumi, by natural sta!;c's, he will 
turn with avidity to ici-ords of the observations of 
otlu'is, until a conception of aI■l"an^enK'nt , ^eneial- 
i/alion, and iidereiue will i;row up within him, the 
(lawn of a hi-her epoch in the hai nu)nious educa- 
tion ol the mind. 



CHAPTER III. 

A year's experiment in teaching. 

I HAD the good-fortune, at the opening of the 
last school year, to receive a class of little girls, 
whose only previous school-training had been in a 
w^ell conducted kindergarten. Of course, they 
were wide-awake, and fresh for study ; they made 
about half of a class of girls, of from eight to 
fourteen years of age. We studied United States 
History, with Higginson's text-book, which we 
read, reviewed, and discussed, until I think they 
had quite a clear vision of the course of events 
in this country for two hundred years; certainly, 
they were thoroughly interested in the subject, so 
that they listened eagerly to any additional details 
or accounts I could give them, reading three or 
four interesting books on the subject of the earlier 
history, and examining the pictures in Lossing's 
Field-books and Catlin's '' North American Ind- 
ians " ; they also read, of their own account, 



A YEAR'S EXFERIMEXT IX TEACHING. 13 

Other fragmentary histories or tales in connec- 
tion. We went through Dickens' " Child's His- 
tory of England " in the same way, with a great 
many illustrations from various sources. We had 
the prominent points of Greek and Roman My- 
thology in oral lessons, reading aloud most of 
"The Age of Fable," of which excellent abstracts 
were written, con aniore, making an exercise and 
study which proved most fascinating to them. 

We reviewed " Miss Hall's Primary Geogra- 
phy," which had been read to them at the kinder- 
garten, and with globe and photographic views 
kindled their interest to a flame, and passed on to 
the higher geograpliy, which we prefaced with oral 
lessons in astronomy, and made our way nearly 
through the geography of the United States, com- 
mitting the text to memory, and drawing maps, 
but occupying ourselves chiefly with imaginary 
travels and plays at trade and commerce, until the 
unity and interchange of diifcrent localities and 
countries were well understood and we found 
unfailing zeal and vivacity pervading the recita- 
tions. 

Elementary grammar was evolved from their 
own unconscious knowledge of the language ; 



14 //Oir SHALL MY CHILD H-K JA C'CI/'J' ? 

and when their statements were put in systematic 
order on the blackboard, I showed them, to tlieir 
surprise and delight, that they had already known 
all that was contained in " (ireene's Jnlioduc- 
tion," and could parse any sentence not too com- 
plicated for their perfect comprehension. Who 
that had seen their enthusiastic joy at this discov- 
ery could have remanded them back to the old 
treadmill of grammar lessons ? Dictation exer- 
cises and composition they became very fond of, 
under somewhat the same method of instruction. 

In reading and spelling we kept up a con- 
stant exercise, by every conceivable variation of 
means, especially dwelling upon exact enunciation 
and natural expression ; and we had weekly recita- 
tions in good poetry, which were attended to care- 
fully, wich some instruction in elocution. 

As to mathematics, we had mental exercises as 
often as seemed advisable, but it was necessary to 
restrain their excitement by irregular attention to 
it, though they became very quick and skilful in 
rapid calculation. We studied Numeration, in- 
cluding, of course. Decimals, and Addition, Sub- 
traction, Multiplication, and Division, aj^plying 
these fundamental principles to parts of numbers, 



A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING. 15 

as well as to simple and denominate numbers, 
thereby covering the subjects of Fractions, Deci- 
mals, United States Money, Compound Numbers, 
Metric System, and simple algebraic quantities. 
We took up Percentage, and some of its applica- 
tions, where the close of the year left us, having 
treated the subject thus far simply as varied appli- 
cations of the rules of Numeration, Addition, and 
Subtraction, always deducing the rule from a clear 
comprehension of the method. I need not say 
that all thoroughly enjoyed the study, and are 
anxious to go on. 

The spring or summer term we devoted to the 
study of nature. The children became quite 
familiar with '* How Plants Grow," with which 
they reviewed Botany, after oral lessons on Miss 
Youmans' plan, analyzing flowers readily, and en- 
joying much of the higher and more delightful 
developments of the study, which they remem- 
bered after once learning: e.g., the propagation 
of the orchid ; the properties of tendrils ; the 
multiplication of cells, etc.; for it is the opening 
of these intricate and beautiful vistas before them 
which most excites their thirst for investigation. 
We studied the forest trees of New p:ngiand. 



lO //OIV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

through Mr. Emerson's book and by walks into 
the living woods, and examination of specimens. 
We absorbed all that '* Morse's First Book of 
Zoology" could give us; also Mrs. Agassiz's little 
book on Seashore Curiosities, besides readinsf 
works on Land Snails, Butterflies, and other in- 
sects. We had oral lessons, well reviewed by 
written abstracts, and drawings from " Land and 
Game Birds of New England," so that summer 
found us with our arms stretched out, and our 
eyes and hearts and minds open to embrace her 
beauties of wood and field and seashore. Physi- 
ology was thoroughly studied as far as is usual in 
our high schools, and proved not at all above their 
comprehension and lively interest. 

Drawing was practised successfully under a 
special teacher, and some of the class developed a 
decided love and taste for it, making copies of 
flowers or animals which w^ere quite worth mount- 
ing and using as gifts. 

Besides these English branches, they all learned 
to talk French with a charmingly pure and cor- 
rect accent under a native teacher, whose manner 
was most inspiring to the class : they went nearly 
through Sauveur's '' Causeries avcc mes Enfants," 



A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING. 1/ 

and learned a few of Fontaine's fables by heart, 
conversing about them easily with their teacher. 
They could play a French game quite prettily and 
intelligibly, and learned by rote the auxiliary 
verbs and verbs of the first conjugation. They 
studied German by much the same method, finally 
reading, with considerable ease and delight, 
"Grimm's Tales" in the original. 

This is a careful and not overdrawn summary 
of what was done from September 15 to June 15, 
inclusive, with a class averaging about ten years of 
age, with very little out-of-school study, and great 
enjoyment. Our promise for next year is to con- 
tinue French, German, and Drawing, commence 
Latin and General History, take up Astronomy 
and Uranography in oral lessons, and continue 
Geography with Miss Hall's work, making it coin- 
cident in outline with our study of history, as 
was, I am told. Miss Hall's original plan for her 
book. We shall go as far with the details of 
Grammar and the construction of the language as 
the interest and intelligence of the class can be 
led, and introduce them to the study of English 
Literature. We shall continue Mathematics, in- 
cludino; Arithmetic, Algebra, and Geometry, only 



10 NO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

as far as they can see the reason for the method 
of operation ; for I by no means agree with Presi- 
dent Hill, in giving children rules to learn without 
the idea which informs them, or leading them 
blindfold, by painful steps, to the temple of learn- 
ing. We shall pursue Spelling, Reading, and 
Writing, by constant but not tiresome drill, and, 
with oral lessons on various subjects bearing on 
their main studies, I hope to advance the class as 
much in love of study, desire to learn, develop- 
ment of their faculties, and attainment of knowl- 
edge, as I feel confident has been done in the past 
year. 

I should not omit to say that no constraint of 
any kind was ever put upon the children, to secure 
their effective attention and study or for their 
good behavior ; no motive of emulation was intro- 
duced, to urge them on at the expense of their 
love for each other ; no rules of manner or morals 
were given them, except those they voluntarily 
deduced from what they saw to be the necessary 
conditions of attentive study and good manners. 
I am free to say, in recommendation of this 
method of education, that it awakens and develops 
the mind and character and stimulates the love of 



A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING. 1 9 

learning to an unusual degree ; and I cannot re- 
sist the conviction that to inspire the young with 
an enthusiastic desire to know all that God has 
offered to their comprehension, to give their 
powers full play in all these infinitely radiating 
channels of study, making learning a delight, — in 
some cases almost an ecstasy, — is the plan of na- 
ture in the development of a child's being. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE OPENING SCHOOL. 

God gives you these, his temples, you believe : 
Fresh, healthful forms of beauty, soul-lit eyes, 

All avenues of knowledge, — to receive 

Hints of himself, to grow pure, good, and wise ; 

O, make their lives his home ! keep integral 

This rhythmic, triune being, — body, mind, and soul! 

It is near nine o'clock : the teacher awaits her 
class in their sunny rooms, and sits "near the 
organ, with her little two-year-old in her lap look- 
ing at pictures. One by one the fresh, pleasant 
girls come in, greeting little Belle and her mother 
with kisses and cheery salutations. There is no 
constraint or reluctance in their glad and affec- 
tionate manner. 

Soon the hour arrives, and, at the touch of the 
bell, they t^ke their seats, — not with military 
precision certainly, nor invariably with immediate 
silence, but with the spirit of good order ; the 
hush comes soon of itself, and, while Minnie or 
Alice plays the accompaniment, all sing a hymn. 



THE OPENIXG SCHOOL. 21 

usually sugg-ested by the teacher, but often by 
one or another of the scholars ; in most cases it is 
a prayer, and is evidently understood by all as a 
direct appeal to the unseen One, whom they love. 
Young girls are, with rare exceptions, religious in 
their nature. In them the senses of the soul are 
as pure and delicate as those of the body ; they 
see divine realities and hear divine voices, — espe- 
cially the voice of conscience, — if not hindered 
by those whose "hearts have waxed gross," and 
whose ** ears are dull of hearing," and whose eyes 
have closed. How easy to recognize with them, 
the presence of God! how lovely the sight of 
their bright, open faces, hallowed by an unwaver- 
ing and uncorrupted faith, — like flowers of the 
morning, upturned to the glowing heavens and 
waving in the pure air! 

Sometimes two or three hymns are sung, and 
occasionally the children recite together some 
thanksgiving, or petition, or ascription of praise 
from the Bible. In connection with the study of 
the outward works of nature, the Psalm cxlvili. 
comes like an inspiration from their understand- 
ing hearts and eager lips, and sounds, as they 
repeat it together, like a paean of consecration. 



22 //o]\- SUM I MY ciin.n nr. tauciit? 

'J'hoy have no i>()stiircs or convent ioiialitics before 
the Spirit of (ioci, nor does the teacher attempt to 
conceal the attitude of her own heart, whatever it 
may be, nor (h)es she refrain from uttering any 
aspiration, as beyond the sympatliies of tlie chil- 
(hen, — but the thoui;ht and feeling of the hour 
How between her ami them unfettered. 

Now little Helle has to go, since she tunes her 
l)ab\- \oice too long ; s(> she says her *' Ciood-bye," 
to which there is (piick response as she throws 
her kisses back in de[xirting, and the quiet grouj) 
turn to the Gosjiel-rcading with unfeigned inter- 
est. J'here is moie or less eonnnent as they read, 
singly or in concert, and geogiaphical or historical 
associations are recalled, or a deeper tt)ne is taken 
in drawing their tlunights to the spiritual lesson. 
lUit the l^ible-reading is cari-ied on with fiequent 
vaiiation oi methotl; in connection with the study 
of Ancient llisti>ry it was made a panoiama of 
Hebrew history autl its corielations with other 
naticuis, and the strong pictures that mark 
dillcrent epochs were thrown out before them 
with great freedom of selection. Sometimes the 
teacher reads from the I'lench or (icrman Testa- 
ment, while the children follow each verse with 



Till-: or/:xiiVc; sci/oor. 23 

conccrt-rcadiiiL;- of ihc lCii.!j,lish ; for c[iiiLc a I0111; 
time each pupil iiad in liini the char<;e of sclect- 
inji- and reading;- the lesson and the hymn. 

Now, if theie is any special message to these 
loving young souls from the mother's heart that 
tries to guide them, it is given, with brevity and 
tender directness, out of her faith or out of her 
experienee of life, or from her standard of good 
manners and refined feeling, — any yearning 
toward the beautiful possibilities of their nature, 
— she expresses it with at least an earnest sym- 
])athy and a magnetic imj)ulse of desire which is 
never wholly (lisap])()inted in their responsive con- 
sideration and reception. 

"Truth " is the motto of the school, — truth in 
essence and in manner. Last year they had their 
badges embroidered in gold, " Die Wahrheit " ; 
this year the word "Tiuth" is printed there 
instead, and is understood to be the talisman of 
their endeavor. They are taught to avoid disguise 
and insincerity, and to regulate the sources of 
emotion, that its involuntary expression may be 
right. If there is an amusing suggestion or force 
in the accidents of any exercise, they are allowed 
to laugh without restraint, and it never really dis- 



24 I/O IV SHALL MY CLLILD BE TAUGHT? 

turbs the mood or seriously interrupts the atten- 
tion ; for a spontaneous smile or hearty laugh, 
which is not pent in, passes with the instant, and 
healthfully relieves the feelings. 

No time is needed for the calling of the roll or 
the hearing of excuses, as no occasion has yet 
arisen for any exactions in regard to attendance, 
and a v.icancy among the beaming faces is dis- 
covered and explained at once ; so at the touch of 
the bell, the class separates into its distinctive 
rooms for the more specific training of the mind. 

It is needless to say to other teachers that 
the high ideal of the controlling mind is never 
reached ; but it is confidently believed that the 
teacJicr must be superior to the arts of discipline 
and rules of method, and must mould the fine 
material before her chiefly by native force of 
soul. 

It has been a difficult task to portray the intan- 
gible influences that enter into the fifteen, twenty, 
or thirty minutes of the opening of the school ; 
but if the home-element shall seem predominant, 
the attempt will not have proved altogether a 
failure. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE KEY-NOTE. 

As I carried in my mind the theme of this 
paper, my eye met a paragraph in the September 
Teacher, which is so forcible and concise an ex- 
pression of what I feel to be the motif oi my '* exper- 
iment in teaching," that I might use it as a text: 
*' The object of education ought to be to develop 
in the individual all the perfection of which he is 
capable." — Kajit. As the Delphic oracle in- 
structed Cicero to "follow Nature, and not take 
the opinion of the multitude for his guide," so, 
more and more, do intuition and experience say to 
the teacher of children, " Attune your ear to the 
whispers of Nature that you may discern the 
secret of education. " 

As a mother, I am most concerned that each 
child in the embrace of home shall receive from 
me what it needs for its physical, mental, and 

25 



26 HOW SI/ALL MV CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

moral development. There is great diversity in 
this small circle ; a difference of temperament, 
of tendencies, of tastes, of natural powers, and 
natural want^. I must administer to each, adapt 
myself to each, meet each on its own track. So, 
in a school, the teacher must be as the mother, 
to devise and provide for each one ; she must dis- 
cern the native stamp of the individual pupil, the 
character of its organization. When she is thor- 
oughly acquainted with the child, has drawn near 
to it in an atmosphere of loving appreciation, and 
placed herself c?i rapport with its intrinsic being, 
then she is prepared to teach it ; and her teaching 
on that footing will be not merely the work of the 
recitation-hour, nor of some departments of in- 
struction, but a deep influence acting everywhere ; 
whether in school or out of school, — acting, as I 
can bear witness, through the whole lifetime of 
that child, and the subject of a life-long gratitude. 
Nature emphatically forbids me to try the 
mechanical process, which treats children in the 
aggregate, and seeks to produce a dead-level of 
uniformity in the school ; Nature warns me from 
merely conventional ruts and unthinking manner- 
isms. My mother-heart knows better than this. 



THE KEY-NOTE. 2/ 

Do I want my child made like every other child ? 
No, a thousand times! Let her be herself, — 
trained, developed, ennobled, but always Jicrsclf ; 
her individuality perfect, her identity complete ; 
for, though millions of children arise in the land, 
there will never be another like this one. I want 
to see her face glow with the radiance which can 
be lit on no other brow, and her soul dressed in 
the beautiful garments which were prepared for 
her from the foundation of the world. Let those 
who teach her consult the oracle of her nature, 
discover the hints within her as to what sort of 
woman she should become, never lose sio-ht of her 
in the crowd, nor confound her with her neighbor ; 
but keep her undistorted, uncramped, juigradedy 
— her being wrought upon according to God's 
pattern for her alone. This is what I ask for my 
child, and therefore what I demand of myself as 
the teacher of some other mother's child. Her 
child is as unique as mine ; I must make no 
encroachment on its ideal individuality, nor at- 
tempt to trim and fit its original powers to an 
unyielding standard. The school of the rule and 
plumb is a machine-shop ; with its constant meas- 
urements and tests, its ranks and examinations, it 



28 //()//- SUM. I MY ciiii.n /.'/■; /'An;///'? 

<;riiuls down tlu'sc clear-cut cr\'stals of mind into 
a dead mass; it stops to pour all the biains within 
its reaidi throUL;h a wi'ekl>' sieve, till all (hsi intlixe 
(|ualities are' lost, and not one ol the line units 
can he distinguished Irom the still chsinte^rated 
whole. 

Why is it thought necessary lo kuow and 
exhibit the comparative proi;ress anil attainment 
constantlv ? Is it possible lor us to j)Ut owe mind 
so bv another as to dc^cide *' this is hiL^her," *'th:it 
is lowei"? l>rain-power has too many outlets 
and modes ol <;rowth Xo be subjected to such 
crude N'aluations. ! will have no eonijiarisons 
made amoni; my childi"en. I will allow none in 
m\' stdnu^l ; the only relatixe test 1 will j)ut is the 
test o{ co\\<.c\c\\ck.\ — Do )i)U rank well in the 
scale ol vonr possibilities ? 

In a small jirivate school, such as has been dis- 
cusstul in these papers, there is, perhaps, an uiui- 
sual inecjualitN' in powers and attainments. It 
o\{c\\ happens that a child who is peculiar, or 
who has hail an except it)nal course ol training;- or 
want of trainiui;, one whose lu\dth rctpiires 
sini;ular care, or whose education has bccai Irom 
some cause irreL;ularly carrieil on, is placed in 



77//'. KF.Y-NOTE. 29 

such a " select " school. The class, thus made 
up of difficult and heterogeneous elements, can 
hardly be treated as a whole, and yet, in externals, 
it must be to some extent a unit ; but with the 
subtle insight and magnetic forces which the 
teacher, as well as the physician, requires and 
must be able to command, we must treat each 
mind as distinctly as a skilful physician would 
treat each separate patient. We must perceive 
and appreciate the instant want and difficulty in 
each case, and with imperceptible and sometimes 
unconscious skill keep each mind supplied and 
alive. Yes, let us keep each mind alive before 
us, — breathing vitalizing air from the realm in 
which we are acting as guide or priestess, and 
then, indeed, we are doing our whole work as 
teachers. If I try to awaken in each child within 
my keeping the activities of which it is capable, 
develop the gifts with which nature has endowed 
it, round out and ])erfect the being in its indi- 
vidual beauty, finish the typical design, and assist 
the creative purpose in the formation of that 
soul, what more absorbing interest or responsi- 
bility can I assume.^ If I ajipreciate it, I shall 
bring all the enthusiasm and sympathy of my 



30 J/Ol\- SHALL MY CHILD />■/-; 'LAUCllT? 

nature, as well as all the atlaiiiuients of my life, 
to hoar 111)011 it. 

And as in the educational economy of Christian- 
it \' we fnul a most exact moilel for such a method, 
-the teacher havin«;- secret sympathy and power 
with each disciple, — so is it not possihle that the 
])arallel may be extended ; and, c\en in our far- 
distant followini;- of His ways of workin*;-, the 
phenomenon of seemini;- miracle mav still j^resent 
itself, — miracle which is only the normal result 
ol a deeiKM* understandiuL:, with nature ; a result 
which, for merely mechanical and superficial 
methotls, is simply im[)ossible. 



CHAITI-K VI. 

AKITIIMI-.TIC. 

< 

Wr: believe in tlie iiiiporlaiiee of accuracy and 
rapidity in all simple mental operations, and the 
arithmetic classes are, therefore, exercised, some- 
times individually, oftener in concert, in this 
work, until they can sustain cjuite a protiacted 
succession of mathematical operations, includinLC 
many which, heini;- performed by contraction, 
sound much more difficult than they are, — so 
that an examination of the class in presence of 
visitors will cause quite a sensation, and a feclin<]^ 
that some wonderful feat has been accomplished; 
iKit the facility is very easily accjuired. 

In beginnin,!^ the study of written arithmetic, 
the writing and readinj; of numbers is taught so 
that the system of a uniform ratio of ten is clear, 
and a))i)eals to their logical sense. This includes 
decimal fractions, which aie notiiing else but a 
legitimate and integral part of the system. It is 

J' 



32 



now SUM I MY ciiii n /.'/• r.icdiirf 



jiisl ;is siinplr a ni.itUM to i"arr\" on t ho cU'crtMsc* 
1^' Ions lo (ho ii;;ht ol iho iloiinial point as at the 
KMt ; lot ns not intoinipt thi> nni(\' ol iho staiulani 
ol nnnuaation riu> nso ol tho tiphor shonKl lu* 
niaiU' \oi\ plain, loi it L'J\t^s a ko\ to tho |M>sition 
<W tho nnnuiiral olassos. Who that was in tlio 
class ol aiiMnnotio nnilor tlu> instinrtion (^1 Mr. 
Stc.'.rn-;, in tho W'ost N\\vton Noinial Srh(u>l. lias 
fofi^'otton thooniphasis t>l that oil n^poatoJ slato- 
jnont. " ilu" oipluM moans sinipl\- that tluao is 
nothin;; Iumi>".^ iho iiloa anJ niannia' ol rhan^,- 
iiiL; lii',nic>s t>l ono knul to tlu^so (^1 anothoi. oithor 
In this SNstoni ol tons o> In ono ol twoKos, or hv 
othois ol \aiioil latios. ran bo niado plain anJ 
lixoJ oloaiK' in \\\c nnnJ. ami nuioh ol tho 
smuHH^hn;; wimU is simplitioil wlu'n this is ilono. 
It hootunos an oas\- mattia t(^ toarh aJJititMi and 
snbt lait um ol an\' liiMnws or qnantitios attoi" tho 
axiom is tluMom;hlv i\staMishoil. that onl\- thim;s 
ol tho samo kiml oan ho aJiloJ im snht i actod. 

Altta plont\- t>l (hill in ihoso (^potations tho 
class is loJ to iliscoMM', hv ropc\itc\l anJ !(\i;nlar 
aiKlitions anvl snht laot ions, tho nuilt iplicat ion and 
(li\ ision (ahlos. which shonKl nowa he i;i\on as .ni 
aihitan staiul.nAi or in\ia\tion ol man, Init onlv as 



A K I I'll Ml rn 



33 



a stali'iiKMit ol iiilicicnt pi (>|)(M t i»\s wliiclj .iic just 
as murli williiii llicii ()ii!;iii,il ohsci v.it ions ;is .my 
ollu'i I. ids ol iKiliiic. il is .isloiiishiii!' how 
much ol .11 il hiiH'l il' .1 rliiM cm disiovcr il pliuril 
al I \\c I i_;',lil out look. 

( )i coursr, .ill lioiii'Ji llio iiisl I ml ion c.in hi^ 
(Miiicd llnis 1,11 ill .1 slioit liiuo, so ih.il llu' jxipils 
ni.i\' \)(' s.iid lo know .ind undci sl.md the piiiui- 
plcs, yet .1 ion;-, I nnr is ic(pnsilc loi .skdl .ind cisi' 
ill pracl ice. .Simple inuid)cis. lonipound ninn- 
hc'is, dctiin;ds. I'mlcd .SPiU's nioncy, nicl 1 u: 
syslcni, dnodi-rini.ds, piopoilions. .md 1 1 .iit ions, 
|)u! down as so ni.in\' distincl iii il hnicl icd sid)- 
jcrls in most IcxI hool'.s, .ind nkiiniin:', on Ihil 
;icroiinl, .110 luil llic \'.iii("l\' ol in.ilcii.d on wliii h 
lo cvpciid ;dl ihis pi, u lice in lodihlion, .idditioii, 
iind siihl I ;ui ion ; .ind lliis pi.uiicc jdioiild ho 
vilidi/fd h\' Iho inlcicsl ol pi-i son.dil \'. Ti.itU' is 
vciy ;ill i.ul ivr lo ( hildu'ii. " ( )h I .iihniio hills," 
SMys M;il)i>l ; and IUmIIi.i icm.iiks, " M.iinma 
always lakes us sliopi)in;; with her now, lo sec 
thai she !;els the 1 i.idil eh:in!;e." They j;o shop- 
pin^' with money in lluir pockets, - -our easy 
cniicnc\'; Ihi'y cioss the w.ilei and lloek inlo a 
London .shop, with pounds, shiHinv.s, ,iiid pence, 



34 noir shall ^Ly child he taucht? 

and Mai;i;io very ]:)crtinontly inquires why the 
German ami the French money are left out of the 
arithmetic. They learn to manage the grocer's, 
the apothecary's, and the dry-goods standards of 
measure, and hope that the day will soon arrive 
when the gram, the metre, antl the litre will take 
their i)lal:e. 

The properties of numbers, — factors, — the 
greatest common divisor, the least common 
multiple, can be presented antl understood as 
something quite interesting, — and fractions can 
be dealt with in the light of that essential princi- 
ple, that cpiantities must be UKule of a like kind 
in order to be atlded or subtracted, so that all 
their difficulties vanish, and the ni'^thod can be 
easily discovered by the children. All these can 
1)0 intrt)duced incidentally, and concjuereci natur- 
all\' and unconsciously until the mind of the pu})il 
becomes familiar with them. Why need they be 
announced with the clamoring bugbear of a new 
title } r"^xperiment and induction will lead the 
pupil into all these jirocesses, under a little tact 
and skill on the part of the teacher. 

It is best to avoid the rules and remarks in the 
books; the books are of m^ use to the teacher 



ARITHMETIC. 35 

except for the examples, and even there it adds 
much interest for the pupils to invent examples 
to some extent. The rule in the formidable 
terminology of the books is a snag that will 
founder any little bark, however fairly launched ; 
as a summary, when the child is quite familiar 
with the operation, it may serve a fair purpose, 
and is easily explained, but beware of it any 
further in the child's mathematical career! 

Proportion should be made a form of writing 
fractions, and both presented as an expression of 
division. Interest, in all its branches, is no more 
a part of arithmetic than renting a house or any 
other transaction involving money, and based on 
the arbitrary determinations of the exchange or 
the statutes ; but, being subject to the application 
of arithmetical processes, stands connected with 
the science as astronomy and mechanics do with 
the higher mathematics. 

The pupils must understand this very clearly ; 
viz., that arithmetic is learned when the proper- 
ties of numbers and the methods of addition and 
subtraction are mastered ; that all the rest is but 
its application to trade and business and science, 
— for the square and cube root, involution and 



M> jiow SUM I I/)- ciiii n /.'/•• TArciir? 
<'\(>Iiil ion, shitiiM l>r i i-lr:',.iU'(l to ;il_:;rl)ia ;nul 

Mow ^>im|tU' .iiul .il 1 1 .ut i\r is llu' sliul\' ol 
miinbris nuliut i\ cU' lonsitlciril ;imi1 stiipiu'il ol 
;ill its c>\rirsii'm-cs ! .ill t ho wii ions a\\(\ soiinJini;' 
lists ol llio iiulox icsoUc I lu'insi'K'OS iiiU> ;i low 
siiiil 'K' oiil linos, ol w hull ihowinous suh ili\isions 
onU liiimsh m.itoii.tl loi \\\v ywyW lo woi k upon 
wilh tho tools whuh llu' iiiuMuinnhoi oil soioiu'o 
(>l .lilt Imiot U' I 'lit s into his h.iiuls. 



•rill- ( l \SS IN AKl 1 lIMl' IIO. - IIS MlvSf INIKO- 
IMU I ION !«> I OMl'OlNn Nl'Mlll KS. 

M.t^^v').-. H.Mih.i, M.ilni, 1 ..m-. 0.»m.\ Amu, Mu .-, ( ;.•! Ii n.lc. I.ilii.-; .ill tiom 
.i.'.lit to l.n \r.n-. ol.l. 

7\'iU'/t('r. ~ riuMo sits l'"ininii\ looLin;; .it hoi" 
i\ \', \\c\\ p.iuloii, i'lnmio ; hut whoic ili^l you i;ol 
th.it Ju\ss ? 

J\tnfui(. M\ .luntii" Inm-Jit it wIumi wo woro 
in I .tuulon ; it is .i >notoh *li i^ss. 

/i'./( A\', - So 1 thvMi;',ht. It is voiy iMoU)-. 
Phi slu- \\\\ toi It in Joll.ns .iiul oonts } 

JuMNttt, '— No W) , It cost iii;htoon shillin;j,s in 
l''n'\lish nionov. 



ANi riiM/' ric. 



37 



luff ft (I. ( )li, I know ;il)()iit l'.i);'jisli nun icy! 
Cliiiii l)(tn;',lit IIS .1 <'_ic;il niiiny ihiii^^s in London, 
iiiid nIk- (old nn- :dl ;d)ont it. 

A/diilLiic. — I slionid like to ;m) slioppin;-, there; 
Iiow Innny ! 

Triulic)-. Well, let's L'.o this iiiomiii}.^. IM.iy 
we are in l-ondon. I lave yon any money in yonr 
j)oekets? I will say \'oin ialheis have idven yoii 
each /, ^ to spend; l»nl I am ",lad, loi yoni eon- 
venienee, il isn't all in ponnd notes, hut a two- 
j)oimd note, ei;dileeii shiil in;; pieces, and twcMity- 
lonr pence, one ol which is woi I h neaily two 
cents. 

JMahil. ~\N\\\i, is that the same as thicc 
pounds ? 

/<(u//tr. Yes, ii I reckoned ii;;htly. It takes 
Iweivi- pence to make a shilliii;;, and twenty shil- 
lin;^s to make a ponnd. I .et ns write il down. 
'I'wentyloni pence would then he two shilliii;_;s, 
and t hose, added to ei;dit ecu shilliiii;s, make t went y 
shilli!l<;s, — just the one ponnd we nee(l to make, 
with the tW()-j)oimd note, tliiee ptamds. Now, \\v. 
will hiiy some pietly thin;;s lor oni liiends, this 
iiioiiiiiin. Nella, do yon lenii-mhei llie exhihil of 
I'Ji^lish i)otleiy al llie Ccntc-innal ^ ** Vcs " ; well, 



38 NO IV SHALL MV CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

as it is the fashion to buy such things, let us go 
into this large warehouse of "James Stiff & Sons," 
and choose our purchases. You may say, in turn, 
what you will buy. 

Mabel. — I want a majolica tete-a-tete set for my 
mother, on which I can take up her supper when 
she is sick. 

TeacJier. — Very well ; I write that down here, 
while those who know may describe the majolica 
ware. [The description is quite full and plain 
from two or three.] I will say that the price of 
it is £,\ I2S. 

BertJia. — I will take two terra-cotta vases. 

TeacJier. — Describe them, Bertha ; you say 
you have two or three terra-cotta ornaments at 
home. I will put your purchase down under 
Mabel's; it comes to I2s. 

Louie. — I would like a few handsome tiles for 
Auntie May. 

TeacJier. — Yes, four Staffordshire tiles come to 
8s. [Alice, Gertrude, and Lillie don't know what 
they want, and, as they are younger, the teacher 
chooses for them : A pretty tea-pot for Alice's 
mother, called a Rockingham tea-pot, for which 
she must pay los. ; a Parian statuette of Cupid 



ARI THME TIC. 3 9 

for Gertrude's purchase, worth £,\ 6s. ; and a 
beautiful platter, of Lambeth pottery, worth 
£,\ 1 8s., for Lillie to give her papa.] 

Anna. — Oh! can I buy some of those lovely 
little majolica butter-dishes ? I know they cost 
^4 a dozen here. 

Teacher. — Yes, indeed ; here are some like 
fern-leaves, and some like shells, — they are only 
I OS. a dozen. 

Anna. — Then I want a table ornament, too, in 
that flowered china, or that with birds on it. 

Teacher. — We will put it down : Butter-dishes, 
los. ; table ornament, in Faience ware, £^\ I2s. 

Maggie. — What shall I have } I can't think. 

Bertha. — Oh, Maggie ! you and Carrie get 
some fruit medallions for your mother to hang in 
the dinigg-room. I have seen them ; they are as 
nice as pictures. 

TeacJier. — Very well ; Carrie and Maggie get 
three medallions each for ^2 a half-dozen, — you 
will have to divide the expense afterward. 
Maggie may pay it now. I will buy two dozen 
pretty cups for the scholars to keep on their 
tables. The price is £,\ per dozen ; how much 
is that apiece ? 



40 HO IV SHALL MY CHLLD BE TAUGHT? 

Anna. — Well, I know what they would cost 
apiece if they were a dollar a dozen ; but — 

Maggie. — Well, can't we divide a pound by 
twelve ? 

Teacher. — Of course; what does the pound 
make twenty of ? 

Sevei'al. — Oh ! shillings ! change it to shillings. 

Bei'tJia. — Twenty shillings divided by twelve is 
one shilling and eight over. 

Teacher. — Now, change the eight shillings left 
into pence, and divide that by twelve. In one 
shilling there are twelve pence, so in eight shil- 
lings there will be — 

AIL — Ninety-six pence. 

Maggie. — And twelve will go in ninety-six 
eight times. 

Bertha. — It will be one shilling and eight 
pence. 

Teacher. — What will } 

All. — One of the cups. 

Teacher. — Do you understand, Carrie } 

Carrie. — I sort of half do and half don't. 

TeacJier. — Pretty soon you shall all be sure ; 
but attend now to this. We will find out how 
large our bill is at Messrs. Stiff's store : — 



ARITHMETIC. 



41 



Majolica tete-a-tete set for Mabel . 
2 Terra-cotta vases for Bertha 
4 Staffordshire tiles for Louie . 
I Rockingham tea-pot for Alice .. 
I Parian statuette for Gertrude 
I Lambeth Platter for Lillie . . 
I Dozen Majolica butters for Anna 

1 Table ornament, Faience, for Anna . 

6 Medallions, Lambeth pottery, for Ma< 
gie and Carrie 

2 Dozen cups for the teacher .... 



£ s. 

I 12 

12 



10 
I 6 
I 18 

10 

1 12 

2 o 
2 o 



BertJui. — I admire bills. My mamma always 
takes me shopping with her now, to reckon 
quickly and find what change she ought to get. 

Teacher. — Bertha and Maggie may add these 
pounds and shillings on the board, the rest on 
their slates. Alice, Gertrude, and Carrie, come 
close around me, and let me help you. Come, 
too, if you want to, Lillie. [After five minutes' 
work, all attend to the board.] 

Carrie. — Maggie's is added one way, and 
Bertha's the other. Bertha's is like ours, so 



Maggie's is wrong. 



42 JIOIV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUUJJT? 

Maggie. — No; my answer is just the same, 
only I added the pounds first, and Bertha the 
shillings. Is mine wrong, Mrs. } 

Teacher. — No, Maggie ; but it is usual and 
easier to add the smaller kinds first — just as you 
add the units before you do the tens. Well, you 
add the shillings ; it makes — 

All. — Eighty-eight shillings. 

TeacJier. — And if every twenty shillings is a 
pound, how many pounds are here } 

All. — Four pounds and eight shillings. 

TeacJier. — And what shall we do with the 
pounds, Mabel } 

Mabel. — Add them to the pounds, I should 
think. 

Bertha. — Why, of course you do, and it makes 
twelve pounds. 

TeacJier. — Yes ; we have spent altogether 
^12 8s. Now, we w^ill find out how much 
change we should each have. Mabel had ;£3, 
and spent £,\ I2s. ; she may find out, at the 
board, what she has left. 'Bertha spent but I2s. 
of hers, Louie only 8s. ; they may work theirs 
cut, too. 

JMabel. — Why, I don't know how to begin. 



/f AV 7 ■///]//' 7 yr. 43 

I'cacJicr. — Sec how 1 write it down : — 

£ s. 

2 20 

(Isn't £2 20s. the same as £1 ?) 112 



£^ «s. 



Mdbil. — Yes, now [ sec. I sh.ill Ihive £\ 8s. 
left. (Jh, j^oody ! I can buy some more things. 

Teacher. — We will «;<) into a lace and dry-^oods 
store another day ; so you must be prepared at 
the next lesson t(j slujw what you wish to Ijuy 
there. 

Jiertha. - 1 have £^2 8s. left. I c]ian;^^ed one 
of my /,3 to shillin,ij,s, and to(;k my 12s. frcjm it; 
so, of course, I had £2 8s. left. 

Teacher. — Mabel, you may [(o slunv Carrie how 
to hnd what she will have left ; Ik-rtha may show 
Alice, and Ma<^,!:^ie may show any one else — 
Gertrude, if she will. [After all is clear in adding 
and subtracting, the teacher [;ives them the table 
of ringlish money, which she has written in full on 
the blackboard ; takes them throu'^h the process 
of reduction and mullipliccilion, which slu- finds 
them quite ready to suggest f(;r tluMnsclves, steiJ 
by ste[), and finally points out the dozen or half- 



44 BO IV SHALL MY CLIILD BE TAUGHT? 

dozen examples in English money — scattered 
through many pages of the arithmetic — for them 
to work out before the next lesson, telling them, 
however, to be sure not to read over anything in 
the book about it, and particularly no rules.] 

Bertha. — Are French money, and German 
money, and all those, in the arithmetic ? 

Teacher. — No ; only English money. It is 
not a part of arithmetic ; only one of the ways 
of using arithmetic in trade. I don't know why 
they put no other kind of money in the book for 
you to work upon. 

Louie. — Well, I didn't care about knowing it ; 
for I never shall buy anything in England — they 
were so horrid in the Revolutionary War. 

TeacJier. — The half-hour is over. You have 
learned quite a good deal. They have some funny 
names for it in the book. 

Carrie. — Please tell us what they are. 

Teacher. — Table of English Money, Reduction 
Ascending, Reduction Descending, Addition of 
Denominate Numbers ; also. Subtraction, Multi- 
plication, and Division of Denominate Numbers. 
[A shout of laughter.] 

After this lesson, which was full of interest and 



ARITHMETIC. 45 

conversation, of which only the outline is reported, 
the class were exercised during subsequent les- 
sons in making purchases, in inventing and work- 
ing out examples, until every member of the class 
was quite at home in the different processes with 
English money, since which they find no diffi- 
culty in applying the principles to any of the 
tables of weights and measures ; although it is 
not the intention of the teacher to keep them 
long upon those standards, which, it is hoped, will 
soon become obsolete, but to proceed at once to 
the Metric Systehi, which requires but a lesson or 
two, as it is a decimal system, and its terminology 
is so interesting. The class is warned off from 
the rules, and anything in the book except the 
examples, until the time comes for using the 
rules as a summary of our discoveries. 



CLASS IN ARITHMETIC. INTRODUCTION TO 

FINANCE. 

Alice, Minnie, Leila, Hattie, Helen, Ethel, Sarah, Alice; from ii to 14 years old. 

Teacher. — You have studied Arithmetic and 
its application to trade ; let us now attend to its 
practical application to the most exciting business 



4<5 now SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

of city life. You know what gold and silver coin 
is, and how it is used in exchange for all our 
wants : what else do we have in our purses, 
Hattie, that will purchase things? 

Hattic. — Why, we have bank-bills. 

TcacJitr. — What makes these of any value, 
more than any other paper } {SJioiviiig a bank- 
note.) Read it ; it is an agreement to pay five 
dollars on demand. {^Fhc bill is examined by all.) 

Minnie. — Are all bank-bills like this } 

TeaeJier. — They are substantially the same, — 
notes, with a promise to pay engraved on the face, 
"promissory notes," or "notes of hand"; though 
these names are given to similar promises which 
are not current as money. You can get gold or 
silver at a bank for these. What is a bank, 
Alice } 

Aliee. — I think it is a sort of office. 

Leila. — It's a place to keep monev in. 

Hattie. — Yes, I've seen the safe and the clock- 
key, and they have piles and piles* of money ! 
Where do they get it } 

TeaeJier. — A bank is a company of men called 
stock-holders, who have put a good deal of their 
money together to make the " capital " of the 



ARITHMETIC. 47 

bank ; they lend and borrow money. They 
choose officers to do the work, and the two prin- 
cipal officers (the President and Cashier) sign 
their names to all these promises or bank-notes, 
for a promise is good for nothing without a signa- 
ture. The bank will keep your money safe for 
you, or will lend you money if you pay for the use 
of it ; some banks not only keep your money safe 
for you, but pay you for the use of it while they 
hold it, returning it to you with that profit or 
interest. 

Helen. — I know, that is the Savings Bank. I 
have $25 in it, and more is added to it every year. 

Minnie. — My uncle put $100 in the bank for 
me last New Year's Day, and he means to put 
more in every year, so that when I am grown up I 
shall have a good deal. 

Teacher. — Let me show you how much interest 
Helen's money gains every year. The bank pays 
her six cents a year for every dollar she has there, 
or six cents per hundred, — six per cent. She 
has $25.00 : how much will they pay her the first 
year. 

Alice. — $1.50. 

Teacher. — Add it to the principal, $25.00; yon 



48 BOJV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

have $26.50, the amount at the end of the first 
year. Now this is the principal of the second 
year, and what will be the interest the second 
year ? 

Helen. — $1.59; and the amount will be ;$28.09. 

TeacJier. — Right : get the amount for the third 
year, — all. 

Ethel— $29.7754. 

TeaeJier. — So you see that in three years 
Helen's money has gained nearly $5.00. It is 
better to keep your spare money in the savings 
bank than in your house, for you get *' compound 
interest " on it ; but if you lend your money to a 
private person, he will pay you six per cent on 
the original principal only, as long as he holds it, 
or simple interest. The principal does not roll up. 

Sarah. — Why will he pay six per cent } 

Teacher. — Because the use of money is a great 
convenience, and worth paying for. However, 
men do not invariably pay six per cent for it, — 
sometimes five or seven, etc. Suppose I borrow 
$200"of Alice, how much shall I pay her for the 
interest for one year at six per cent ? 

Hat tie. — $12.00. 

Teacher. — And if I keep it two years I pay her 



ARrrnM/'/r/c. 49 

J^ 24. 00 of iiUcrcst. If I keep it six months longer, 
how nuich shiill I i)ay ? 

Liila. — Six months is lialf a year ; and if you 
pay her ^12.00 for a year, you pay ;f^6.oo f(jr half a 
year. 

'readier. — And if I [)ay six eents on a dollar 
per year, what must I pay i)er month, Helen? 

Helen. — A month is a twelfth of a year; so 
you will pay a twelfth of six eents, or half a eent 
I>er month. 

Tcaeher. — And if 1 ixiy half a cent a month, 
what for one day .'* 

Alice. — (Jne-thirtieth of half a eent, or one- 
sixtieth of a cent. 

Teacher. — What part of a mill ? 

lithel, — One-sixth of a mill. 

Teaclier. — Now, do ytni see that if you multi- 
ply the number of years by six eents, of months 
by half a eent, and of days by one-sixth of a 
mill you will get the interest of one dollar for 
the given time. How, then, shall you get the 
interest of the in'ineipal for the given time at six 
l^er eent } 

Leila. — Multiply the interest of one year by 
the piinei[)al. 



50 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

Teacher. — You may work out the problems in 
simple and compound interest in the book, before 
your next lesson. Sarah, did you ever go down 
town, on Water Street, at 1 1 or 12 o'clock in the 
forenoon ? If you have, you may have seen 
almost all the rich men there, meeting one 
another on the street, or in Mr. Burt's banking- 
house, or elsewhere. They are the capitalists, 
whose business is perhaps wholly with this ex- 
change called money. 

EtJiel. — You could see them in New York, on 
Wall Street. 

TeacJier. — Perhaps they meet in a building 
called The Exchange, or on a street where most 
of the ofifices for money are located, where mer- 
chants and financiers meet, — " on 'change." 
Where did the old Romans meet } 

Aliiinie. — In the Forum. 

Helen. — And in Venice they met on the 
Rialto. 

EtJiel. — And in New York they go to Wall 
Street. 

TeacJier. — At any of these places : what excite- 
ment and hubbub ! At the Broker's Board in 
New York it is almost like Bedlam ; it is the great 



AR/THMETIC. 5 1 

absorbing interest about gold, or the changes in 
the value of paper money, or of stocks, and you 
would be hardly able to understand it all. But 
you could see the feverish worry and contention, 
— they quarrel and shout. The "bulls " and the 
" bears " (so called) try to raise the price of gold 
or to lower it ; and all are intensely concerned in 
the rise and fall. Money is bought and sold, and 
through all the varieties of business runs the fash- 
ion of paying a percentage of the money-basis of 
any operation to the one through whose hands it 
passes. The commission merchants, the brokers, 
the bankers, the tax-assessors, the insurance 
agents, the custom-house officers, all apply this 
principle of percentage in reckoning their gains 
or losses, and working out their business. Ethel, 
you know that Mr. Allen, collector of this port, 
sends out the custom-house boat to every in-com- 
ing ship : what for.'* 

Ethel. — Because he has to get the tax on all 
the foreign goods that come here. 

Teacher. — Yes ; that tax is a fine imposed by 
the government, — poured into the public reve- 
nue. Finance used to mean that, but now it 
means all departments of business with money 



52 HOJV SHALL MY CHLLD BE TAUGLIT? 

alone (and paper representing money) for the 
stock in trade. The financiers are the men who 
deal in money-notes, coin, stocks, shares, etc. 
The bankers arrange loans of money ; negotiate 
all sorts of operations depending on the money 
market. 

Alice. — What are brokers } 

Teacher. — First I will tell you about commis- 
sion merchants. If a Western farmer has a great 
quantity of produce that he wishes to sell, but can- 
not take to market conveniently, he lets it go into 
the hands of a man who is prepared to sell it for 
him, and to whom he pays a certain percentage 
of its value for the trouble of selling ; this is com- 
mission paid to a commission merchant, who sells 
the goods from his own wharf or warehouse. But 
sometimes a man has goods that he must employ 
another to sell for him, that cannot be trans- 
ported, — shares in the Wamsutta Mills, or stock 
in a bank, or a share in the Old Colony Railroad, 
or in some oil-well, or a house, or a part of a ship, 
— he gets a broker to sell it for him. If he is in 
a large city, he employs a real-estate broker to sell 
his house or land, a stock-broker to sell his stocks, 
a gold-broker to sell his money, and a ship-broker 



AKITHME TIC 5 3 

to sell his ship; but here perhaps one man does 
any one of all of these tnings. You see the 
broker sells goods that do not come into his 
hands, that are untransferable ; the commission 
merchant sells transportable goods trom his ware- 
house. Both are paid a certain percentage, usu- 
ally quite a small percentage, of the value of their 
goods. 

Minnie. — I wish we could do that kind of 
business. 

Teacher. — Minnie may be a commission mer- 
chant at the next lesson ; Alice, a broker and 
banker ; Helen, a custom-house collector ; Hat- 
tie, cashier of a bank ; Sarah, an insurance agent, 
to pay us for our houses when they are acciden- 
tally destroyed, provided we pay her a percentage 
of their value every year till then ; Alice may 
collect the taxes on our property. Talk with any 
one you know about these various kinds of busi- 
ness, and we will see what forms and methods are 
used in transacting them. We will find out by 
degrees the secret of Finance, It's just like some 
absorbing game in real life. It makes men grow 
gray, and knit their brows ; but it won't do for 
us to know nothing about it, though the fathers 



54 I/O IV SI/ ALL MV CiriLD BE TAUGHT? 

and husbands and brothers generally do it all 
for us. 

Helen. — Isn't it queer to make such a fuss 
about money ? it isn't really good for anything, 
is it? 

TcacJicr. — No, its value is all made up or ficti- 
tious ; it will not in itself do us any good, and 
when we die it is all thrown away. The miser 
forgets that, and I think the financiers forget it 
too, sometimes. It is only the tool of trade. 
Agriculture, manufacture, and trade feed and 
clothe us, and develop the resources of the world. 
What has Finance to do with Arithmetic ? 

Leila. — I don't see exactly ; but yet you can't 
do business without using Arithmetic. 

TeaeJier. — That's it, exactly ; it is carried on 
by the practical application of the methods of 
Arithmetic, just as trade is. 



CHAPTER VII. 

NATURE LESSONS. 

A HINT of spring appears, and as wc have been 
waiting for it to study something of outdoor 
natural science by practical observation, we hail 
it gladly. Boys and girls, start with your eyes 
open. Look for the signs of spring as we walk. 
Tell us what birds you see or hear, what they are 
doing, how they look, how they i\y ; and if you 
know something of their habits, their haunts, 
their food, their nests, and their eggs, let us talk 
about it, that all may be ready to write about it 
in school to-morrow. Examine the pines to-day 
especially. I shall ask you many questions about 
them. Get some of the wood and bark to take 
home, and pick up some specimens of rock, for 
we are to learn all we can of trees, rocks, birds, 
insects, and plants, between now and the long 
summer vacation, so that you will know where 
you are, and be well acquainted with your com- 
pany all through Nature's holiday. 

55 



56 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

Here is a little bank of snow under the stone 
wall. We must give it a greeting and farewell, 
for it will soon go. It glistens on its crusty 
surface. You have observed the snow as 
it falls. What do you know of the shape of the 
flakes } 

Helen. — The flakes are one or more little stars 
of different patterns. I saw a good many copies 
of snow-flakes in the magazines. They were very 
pretty. 

Madge. — I saw them one day through a micro- 
scope. They had each six rays, and some had 
rays like fern-leaves. Oh, there were so many 
kinds ! but they were all lovely. 

TeacJier. — Yes, every star, or crystal, has six 
rays, — sometimes twelve ; all the centres have 
six sides ; all are perfectly symmetrical ; all its 
parts are put together at an angle of 60°, — just 
as if a mathematical law had ruled the formation 
of all. The earth all winter has been wrapped in 
this warm, soft blanket of the snow. It has kept 
the roots safe. How softly and quietly the moist- 
ure which formed them arose from the sea ; how 
far the great cloud travelled ; how wide it spread, 
to fall so gently at last just where it was needed ! 



NATURE LESSONS. 57 

Mother Nature is a "dear old nurse," to be 
sure. 

Daisy. — You wanted us to look for rocks. 
Here is a pretty white one ; it looks almost like 
the snow. 

TcacJicr. — All come near to see it ; find more 
pieces like it, or mixed with some other kind of 
rock. It is called quartz. Teddy has a piece, a 
little different in hue. What is yours the color of, 
Daisy } 

Daisy. — It is milk-white. 

Teddy. — Mine is something like glass. 

Teacher. — Daisy's is milk quartz, and Teddy's 
vitreous, or glassy, quartz. This is very interest- 
ing, because when all the outside of the earth was 
water, this soft, fine sediment was deposited at 
the bottom of the unbroken ocean, and by heat 
was made into this rock. It was the bottom of 
the old oceans that boiled all around the hot globe 
before any plant or animal was made. It is the 
oldest rock and the most common. Is it hard } 
Try your knife upon it. 

Courtcnaye. — It is very hard. I cannot make 
a mark on it. 

Teacher. — Take a piece home. It will write 



58 HO IV SHALL MV CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

your name on glass. Glass is quartz-sand melted 
and mixed with soda. It takes a very hot fire 
to melt it. Crack up a piece. Does it break in 
even lines .^ 

Prescott. — No, it breaks any way. 

Teacher. — Flint, you know; you have a piece 
at school. This is a kind of quartz. Sometimes 
quartz is in crystals, and as transparent as glass. 

Helen. — Oh, we have a rock at home all cov- 
ered thickly with crystals, — it is crowded with 
them. 

TeacJier. — Amethyst is a purple quartz-crystal. 
Agates are layers of different colored quartz. The 
sand of the sea-shore is quartz broken up by the 
waves. It is found mixed with other minerals, 
and makes rocks. But there go a flock of crows. 
" Caw, caw," they say. 

Blanche. — They go fast. They are all black, 
and flap their wings slowly. 

Esther. — I see them go to the sea-shore early 
every morning and back. They get their break- 
fast there. 

Willie. — They eat the dead fish on the shore. 
I saw a crow's nest last fall, but it was so high up 
in an old pine-tree, without any but top branches, 



NATURE LESSONS. 59 

I couldn't get it. It was made of great sticks 
and hay. You could see it far off. By and 
by they will come to the corn-fields for food, 
and the farmers will have to set up the scare- 
crows. 

Teacher. — He belongs to the Corvus family. 
His nest is always high above the ground, in a 
pine or cedar, made of sticks and dry grass, — as 
Willie says, — and lined with bark from cedars or 
grape-vines. The old cedars at Nonquitt are all 
stripped of their bark. They make their nests 
the last of March. 

Pi^escott. — Rob Moore got an Qgg for our club ; 
it was green, with brown marks on it ; about an 
inch and a half long. 

TeacJiei\ — If you should go near the nest while 
they are building, they will fly about, cawing in 
such a way as to deceive you about its situation. 
But when they are sitting on the eggs they are 
very brave. In April they eat a great many de- 
structive insects in the ploughed fields, so that 
they do the farmers as much good as harm. Some- 
times they will eat field-mice or snakes, and in 
autumn they eat berries and grain. Did you ever 
see a crow walk } 



6o HOJV SI/ ALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

Madge. — Yes, they look so tall and funny, as 
if they were going to meeting ; but they fly as if 
they were sailing, sometimes. 

Teacher. — We are coming to the pines. Here 
are the willows. Don't break them to-day ; wait 
a week or two till the pussy-buds are Jarger, and 
we will examine them then. 



II. 

It is a lovely day, and the sweet, mild air re- 
proaches us for keeping indoors. However, as 
Madame jMonet comes for an hour, the class is 
easily reconciled to the confinement, which is 
made so entertaining by the coniedie " Les Ca- 
prices de Gizelle " — la petite viecJiante avec sa 
poiipee. But when the hour is through they 
seem tired, and Nature invites us away, so the 
rest of the session shall be held under the blue 
skies. We start joyfully, with microscope and 
specimen boxes, reaching within fifteen minutes a 
quiet road stretching between fields and woods, 
with a running brook near; while stone walls 
divide the landscape, and broken rocks are strewn 
along the wayside. 



NATURE LESSONS. 



6i 



As we ramble pleasantly on, we observe the 
cumulus and cirrus clouds freshening up the sky. 
We point them out, and explain their causes and 
effects, answering many a curious question there- 
upon. We might amplify on such a theme, but 
try to stop short of confusing them, and promise 
them more complete instruction another time ; 
but it is an interesting subject, especially to the 
imaginative children. We observe the enterpris- 
ing robin and bluebird, crossing and recrossing 
the airy spaces ; and, with a clatter of tongues, we 
recount what we learned of them last spring, — 
how many feet of worm each young robin must 
have per day, the eggs, the nests, the songs, the 
migration and habits. They have not forgotten a 
word of it, and Ibve to talk about the pretty 
creatures who can do what we cannot, — track 
the breezy air. 

We have pointed out the trees that ornament 
the streets and grounds we have passed, — the 
maples, elms, and chestnuts, — and here are the 
pines, oaks, and wijlows. Do we not know much 
of them already } Let us look for the buds, find 
the fresh green layer beneath the bark, see the 
catkins coming out ; and, as we have within a few 



02 7/0 IV SIIAIJ. MY CHILD B F. TAUGHT? 

days had oral lessons on such opening buds and 
flowers as could be obtained, we examine, with 
renewed delight, the pistillate and staminate 
flowers of the willows wrapped in amber clouds, 
and the red maple all aflame on the borders of the 
wood. We find the sprouting maple keys and the 
acorns, with their stored-up albumen to feed the 
germ. 

Now we come to a halt, and sit down upon 
some big stones, while we cast our eyes around. 
The broken rocks glisten with mica, and are beau- 
tifully variegated with feldspar, quartz, and por- 
phyry ; we split off flakes of mica ; we talk of 
forces, of heat and water, of crystallization ; we 
go back to primeval ages : here are boulders of 
granite and syenite. (Oh, yes ! we heard of 
syenite in our study of Egypt last winter.) Is 
it too much to hint at the origin of these bones 
of the earth, and stretch these little minds to such 
vast themes "l You can see their powers expand, 
their imagination take wing, and their longing- 
grow mightily as they look and listen. Ah ! why 
are there so many mines of interest in our track 
to-day, and the road below and around us so teem- 
ing with material for investigation } It was not in 



NATURE LESSONS. 63 

our arrangement of opportunities ; let us accept it 
as part of a wiser one than ours. 

** Well, now, scatter, dear children, and find all 
you can ; I await you here." Away they go to 
the four quarters of this field of exploration. 
Alice H., the born naturalist, starts for the brook, 
with three or four younger ones loyal to her ; 
into the woods goes Hattie with a troop, and the 
radii of our circle are quickly drawn by swift 
detachments — to the fields, down the road, on to 
the recesses, where the sound of the pines is 
heard or the clear gurgle of the water. They 
come back, after a while, in irregular squads, and 
lay their treasures on a big flat rock together. 
Here is a blossom of cinquefoil, with its plaited 
leaves and running stem ; sprays of alder and 
willow catkins, in every stage of beauty ; clover 
leaves ; one little stem of epigea in bloom ; fresh 
grass, and a great variety of lichens and mosses. 
One and another explain and describe the cinque- 
foil and epigea, when, — hark! a shout of glad 
announcement from the woods, and a burst of 
rosy cheeks and bright eyes ushers up Alice T. 
and her followers, with four dangling snakes, all 
shining and scaly, one with the forked tongue still 



64 NOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

darting from its bruised head. What beautiful 
golden browns checker its swaying length ! We 
will carry them home, and have a lesson on them 
to-morrow. So must we also teach lichens and 
mosses, although Alice T. tells us now of the 
crumbling of the rock under the lichen ; but 
while we wait for the delaying parties, who have 
not returned, we are diverted with an account of 
the adventure of the snake discovery and capture, 
and have time to look through the microscope at 
the lovely mosses — miniature forests of green, 
crowned with whorled roseate heads ; soft carpets 
of verdure, lifting up their spears and cups of red 
and brown. 

But now we hear the clarion call of the scouts 
from the brook, and on they come ! A raid over 
the stone wall brings them all to our feet, and 
lo ! in their open boxes displayed are masses of 
bull-frogs' and turtles' eggs, — the embryo just 
beginning to show the line of cleavage. What 
excitement of pleasure attends this lesson ! We 
are not afraid of embryology : nothing is more 
interestino- than this evident miracle of the birth- 
hour of Nature — both animal and vegetable — and 
we are in the very midst of its awe and beauty. 



NATURE LESSONS. 65 

We discuss carefully and explicitly, with the mi^ 
croscope, the bull-frog's eggs, the albumen, the 
germ, the tadpole. They all know the metamor- 
phosis and the general characteristics of the tad- 
pole and frog. But Alice H. has been an original 
investigator : she can tell precisely the succession 
of the changes, from the laying of the ^gg to the 
full-grown frog ; she has felt in the bull-frog's 
mouth herself to see if it had teeth, and she tells 
us all about it, and how its tongue is attached in 
front and free behind. They have all seen the 
toad or frog throw out its fat, gluey tongue to 
swoop up the ants or slugs ; some have seen the 
bull-frog swallow another frog ; but they are far 
from listless when they learn for the first time 
that the frog's ears and nose are in the back of its 
mouth ; it doesn't appear to strain their faculties 
to learn, from once hearing, these and many other 
facts about the frog, in this academic hall, with 
the specimens under their eyes. 

We cannot find a frog, but many remember the 
tight piece of skin stretched behind the eye, 
which is the drum of the ear. They hear of 
the flying-frog of Borneo ; of the haughty male 
frog, who decorates himself with a garland of eggs 



% 

no now sifAi.L .]/)■ cif/f.n nr. taught? 

till ho looks like a Knight t)f the Garter, and then 
sits in the mud till the tadpoles squirm, when he 
jumps into the water and they all launch out like 
an epitome of the resurrection day ; they hear of 
the toad whose back grows soft and spongy while 
it lays its eggs, so that the male can stick it full 
of the little globules, like a beaded cushion, and 
vvlien the chanire comes, in the twinkling; of a 
toad's eye, one hundred and twenty lively little 
blackies jump out of their warm bed at once. It 
doesn't take long for the audience around the rock 
to commit these wonders to memory. Shouts 
of delight reverberate, and ecstatic measures of 
jumps and twirls and other gyninastics interrupt 
the lesson. Afterward in the more orderly atten- 
tion of the schoolroom, we can fix the technicali- 
ties, explain the structure, compare and classify, 
and when abstracts have been written, I doubt if 
some of them may not lay claim to the rare title 
of Batrachiologists. 

It is high time to go home. Pick up the speci- 
mens, fill up the boxes, swing the snakes along ; 
do not get too many rocks, though they are so 
temi)ting in their glistening beauty and their won- 
derful suiTiicstions : and when we reach the 



Rcliool, after oui- two hours out, \vc will han^i;- the 
snakes from the window as trophies, and study 
them up for oui- lesson in the morning. Good- 
bye ; we have started up many a trail ; we long 
and mean to follow caeh one ; and just now we 
are hungry. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

READING TO THE CHILDREN. 

The teacher seems to be reading to the class ; 
she looks up often to meet the row of intent faces 
turned toward her, and seems to gather inspira- 
tion from the review ; scholars at work upon 
other studies one by one lift up their dilated eyes, 
and as the reading progresses the whole school 
becomes absorbed in listening. Sympathetic and 
enthusiastic exclamations break from their lips 
here and there, — questions and brief conversa- 
tions interrupt only to augment the interest. The 
book is held in the teacher's hand certainly, but if 
one glances over its rapidly turned pages he can 
hardly follow, and seldom finds the place. Actu- 
ally, the text is translated impromptu into a 
style and language which, by a sort of improvisa- 
tion, becomes the best medium for this mercurial 
transmission of ideas. The book is taken as a 
skeleton to be clothed upon by the kindled iti- 

68 



READIXG TO THE CHILDREiW 69 

spiration of one who loves herself to prepare the 
mental aliment for those whom she has studied so 
carefully, and whose hungering looks turn to her, 
while she is stirred by their magnetic desire, and 
sensitive to every throb of the nervous tissue of 
their busy brains. 

It is better for such a teacher to take for this 
purpose a book which is not written for children, 
as children's books are too childish in style and 
too limited in language. Words thrown into 
strong connections interpret themselves to the 
warmly interested mind, and the vocabulary is 
insensibly and actively enlarged, the store-house 
of memory filled, not with dead forms but with 
living actors, ready to step forward and play their 
part whenever the automatic brain calls for them. 

This method of teaching explains much that 
seems extravagant as a statement of a year's 
work. For example, one day last spring, to re- 
ward those who had braved the storm to come, I 
took a dry account from a compendium of general 
history, and attempted to teach in an hour or two 
the lesson of the Crusades. The children had 
had but a glimpse of the matter, in connection 
with their lessons in English History, the previous 



;o //()//• si/.ur MY cuii.n i^i: TArcur? 

\oar. Ro:ulini;- ti> thoiu in st^nio such \\\n' as I 
ha\o ilcscriboJ ; writini; on tho board a schotlulc 
ol nan\os anil dat os as tho\- occiinwl in the iwul- 
ini;-. in ot\lor to nuiko tho outline clear before their 
eves ; tracing; the localities and nunenients on the 
map; reailini; verbatim passai;es Irom the lalis- 
iHiii! also, showing" with it the eni;ra\ ini;s trom a 
rare illustrated edition ol" Scott, and with {pictures 
and a little ot the text I'rom liuin/iiw — 1 t'ound at 
the close of the session, that in the i;low ol the 
whole theme upon the clear mirror of their minds. 
thev had received a comiM-ehensive as well as a 
particular knowlcdi^e of the subject, a pertectly 
orderlv outline of its facts, a vivid apprehension 
of its jnn"}H^se, philosophv. connections, and re- 
sults, as well as a strong scenic impression of the 
drama of the whole epoch. I think it would have 
taken a week, at least, of dailv lessons of common 
book-routine to accomi^lish what we did in this 
reading- ; and I believe the pupils will have a 
nuMC enduring remembrance ot the history, and 
a stronger desire to inform themsehes more tull_\- 
upi>n it. and to re\-ive whatever escapes their 
memories, than thev would have atter the usual 
method of stud v. 



READING V'O 77//': c// / /J)/a-:N. /I 

Ph(tair/is Lives vvc read much in connection 
with the study of ancient history ; it is a wonder- 
ful mine of deHght, and absolutely requires this 
kind of presentation. There is much elimination 
and supplementary explanation to be made, — 
deep chasms in the historical highland to be 
bridged over, and, in fact, a great deal of trans- 
mutation to make it into pure gold for children ; 
but, with this handling, it is fascinating in the 
extreme, and throws out the old heroes most 
boldly on the canvas. " Splendid ! " " Three 
cheers ! " " Which do you like best .'*" " Oh, how 
I admire him ! " are among the frequent interpola- 
tions on the part of the excited audience, as they 
are moved to sorrow or to joy by the grand sculp- 
turing of this great master of biography. 

But if they take the book and try to read it 
alone they are disappointed ; it seems incoherent, 
often very prosy and unintelligible, and they grow 
weary of hunting for the juicy plums of anecdote. 

I like to take a hand-book of some branch of 
physics, and offer it to the class through this kind 
of reading ; the "primers" in these branches I 
do not care to use, although I have tried several 
of them ; but they trammel the natural action of 



72 J/OIV SHALL MY CLLLLD BE TAUCIir? 

my own thought and flow of my own expression 
and clog- the ways which* run from my mind to 
theirs. It seems ahiiost impossible for me to 
read one of them verbatim to a child. A little of 
that electric force of the teacher's own individual- 
ity, when it beats in harmony with the pulses 
which it touches every day, is more effectual than 
volumes of dead words and tedious reiteration. 
More than all that they learn of the subject-matter 
in hand in such exercises, I value the sharpening 
and strengthening of their powers of discernment, 
concentration, and assimilation, and the steady 
improvement of the quality and fibre of the mind 
which is ministered to. Is it not the essential 
germ of true education.'* 



CHAPTER IX. 

ORAL LESSONS. 

Socrates sat with his disciples in the Academe 
as a teacher viva voce ; no book was in his hand, 
no tablet or scroll was held out to his pupils, but 
the air surged with the magnetic power of his 
presence, and the audible expression of his mind. 
The eye was riveted on hivi, not on written pages 
or slow-conned letters. And in the immense 
concourse of the Greek theatre we see the people 
listening with bated breath to the wisdom, the 
philosophy, the history, and religion of those 
great tragedies whereby yEschylus, Sophocles, 
and Euripides informed the world. Was it 
necessary for any open-mouthed listener to go 
thence to the examiners, or to work over those 
problems of passion and reason by the smoulder- 
ing embers of a printed record? Nay, the im- 
pression was branded into his mind by the heat of 

73 



74 //OU- SHALL MY CIIILP H LI TAl'CHT? 

action, form, look, antl speech, which kindled there 
an undying fervor. 

And, — to come down to nearer times and less 
miraculous men, — when did Agassiz call his 
class before him to go through a list of printed 
questions reviewing a printed page? lie took 
them to Lake Superior to learn of ores ; the 
masses of copper shone iridescent in their hands, 
and the teacher's face glowed with the enthusiasm 
of vision as he spoke and pointed. How many 
times have we seen him on the platform imparting 
more wisdom, science, and devout learning from 
his expressive and radiant face and golden utter- 
ance than could be put upon paper or held within 
covers ! Me adjured the young priests and ves- 
tals of nature, gathered about him at Penekese, 
to discard books and proceed to discovery. 
Books are the reservoirs of wdiat we have not the 
means of hearing or seeing. If I am a cosmopoli- 
tan, need I consult the geography t If I can 
listen to the animated report of the cotemporary 
of great men, need I read their biographies ? 
No ; the word, the look, the first-hand report, is 
next to the witness of oin- own eye or the partici- 
pation of our own life. 



ORAL LESSONS. 75 

Even in consulting the book, how greatly 
instantaneous impression may be cultivated ! 
The dull, untrained mind follows each line with 
heavy movement of eye and brain, and even of 
lips ; the brain trained to concentration and rapid 
assimilation takes in the page at a glance, as did 
Lord Macaulay, and receives the subject like a 
sun-picture in turning the leaves. I claim that 
one of the finest results of steady and progressive 
oral instruction is this training for concentration 
of mind, and instantaneous focussing of the light 
of the printed page, or any other channel of 
impression ; it opens the ways, and arouses the 
forces of the brain, until that receives and appro- 
priates whatever is offered to it without the 
friction of intermittent interest, and the check 
and chafe of an uneducated eye and brain. 
We have been accustomed to follow and catch 
the fleeting word which may not be recalled or 
repeated, instead of a waiting line to which we 
again and again recur when we plod through the 
dull letters until our brains are callous and rusty 
for want of exercise. 

Horace Mann ! Has any one any merely book- 
associations with his teachinfr ? It was too vital 



7<^) //oir s/iAi I. .!/]■ ruu.n />/■ /•.ircz/T? 

and incisive a nialtcr to clothe with anotlicr man's 
]an<;iKi<;c, or be impaitcd thi()U_L;h any written 
nie(h'iiin. He said, "Let there 1k' ! " and thei-e 
was. Tiaily it led us t hirst ini;- and hun_i;eiini;- to 
every source of knowledge, — books were its 
tiabutarics, and so was evervthin<;- wherein lay 
food for the insatiate brain stirred by his touch. : 
but the <;reat stream, — the deep river of his 
inlluence, was an out (lowing; of his own personal- 
ity and his own inspiration, and created scdiolars 
and noble souls. 

Oral lessons ! they slunild come \vou\ the over- 
llowini;- beaker, not fiom the scanty cup. If 
mechanical, what an utter failuie they become! 
They must be so spontaneous as to awaken an 
interest in every pupil, so well prcparetl for as to 
satisfy tlu^ aioused attention ; so rcj^lete as to tempt 
aiul reward all mental cravini; ; so SUL;-L;estive as to 
start innumerable activities in tlie listenini;- brain; 
and so force! ul and inspiring; as to dri\-e to inves- 
ti^^ation, research, and stud\-, b\' every ax'ailable 
means. They should be mixed with every recita- 
tion, — an inliltration of suidi^ht oxer ex'cix^ path 
ot knowK\li;e, shoiteniuL;" and illuminatini'; the 
roail, and yet re\'ealin<;- an inlinite \ista. 



OKA I, LESSONS. 77 

ORAI, I.l'.SSON ON IMKDS. 

Teacher. — Do you know tlint, diirini;- this month 
a L;rc;it inuUitudc will conic \\\> licrc from tlic 
South, to spend the sprin-- and summci? \Vc 
shall soon sec lari;c and attractive parties of trav- 
ellers arrivini;- and settling themselves in their 
summci- homes. 

ScJiolars. — Who arc they, and what arc they 
coming for? 

Teacher. — You must try to guess ; they do not 
come by railroad or stcand)oat, although they 
travel as fast. Tliey arc coming now in such 
tr()o])S that there will soon 1)C a ndllion of them in 
Massachusetts. 

Louie. — A milhon ! What shall wc do .^ Hierc 
will not be room enough for them, nor enough to 
cat. 

TcaeJier. — Oh, there arc a good many of the 
houses they had last summer waiting for them, and 
they will go right to work and build all they need 
besides. As for their food, it has been kept safe 
all winter foi" them in little scaled cans which they 
know how to open, hiddc^n in the places where 
they resort. 1 saw a crowd of them yesterday, 



/N //('// sii.ii I Mv cm in /.•/• '/•.//•(////•; 



(Ii'cssimI in hiowii ;iinl dull icd, opciiiii- som/ of 
llu' cMiis ;m(l I'iiliiiv, llu- pn-soi \'cil liuils, ;iihI tlu'V 
IkkI ires ;iii(l lioslii)!-, with llicii drsscil, l.iid oiil 
on (.•K'L;;inl 1\ spi cid t,d)li's, sii| i| mm 1 rd .nid tcslooncd 
1)\' ever;;! I'rns, s|»iniH' houvjis, ;ind lii hou'dis, ;ind 
llu'\ li.id (hops ol l);ds;iin ;ind spirN' L;unis loi lluMi' 
conloil ions. 

lurtha. W'hv, Mis. ! \vli;it \\\v yon \\\\V- 

'\\\i\ id)oul } 

/((it/iir. I'm lalkin;', ;d>onl tlu^ dcliiditfnl 
(■t)inp;in\' nhonl lo \isit ns Ironi tlir Sonlli. TlicN' 
know niou-.d)onl sonir llnni^s in Nalnic line lli.m 
we k\'.\ .ind tho\' ;iir ;dl nioii' or K'ss niusirnl. and 
will L;i\'c' ns (piili" ;i i'oiutiI i'\im\' niorninv, ;nid 
Hii;hl, .ind nioii' or U'ss thionuji in;in\' d.i\s ot ihr 
spring; ;ind sninnu'i". 

Cnrrir. I think I know. IM.iy 1 tell } 

IttU'litT. — Not (piito \Tt ; hnl \'oii ni;i\- t;dk 
;d>ont ihrni. wilhont tollin:',. I )o \(M1 know liow 
t hoii honsi's mv hnilt } 

itirrit. - Sonu' ol tluMn ;irc^ ni;ido ol mud ;ni(l 
sticks and sli.iw and hair. 

/t'di/iif. — 1 )o Non know what tlu*\ likr best lo 
cat ? 

i'(irri(\ Worms. {/ <i//i^///<r.) 



Ok'Al I I'.SSONS. 



;<) 



Scrcnt/. — I know. It is llic hiids. 

ri\'Si()lt. — I saw ;i lit lie hiid st ;iii(liii;_; on \\\v. 
to]) ol the snow, tlu- oilier d.iy. lie look hold ol 
;i little stiiik lli;il peeped out o( llie snow, iiiid 
shook it till lolsoF st'cds lell down on the snow, 
and he ale them. Were lliey llu' lood in the 
sealt:d cans ? 

'rciulicr. — Ves ; (lie (\ins weic hnnj; np on thai 
little stalk till he shonld come to v.el them. Thai 
little l)iid, ami his relatives, had stayed here all 
winler, I think. I low diil he look? 

J^rcsro/f. — lie was black and while, wilh a hii; 
lu-ad lor siieh a small bird ; and he almost tnrned 
someisanlls npon the liidree, ajid hnni; with his 
head down. 

I'liulifr. — Was his lu'ad l)laek, or while? 

rrcsioll. — I lis head was bkuk, and his bi'east 
was almosl white. 

'/'(•(icf/rr. -We mi<;hl call him IJlaek cap. Did 
he seem to be alone ? 

rrcscoll. — Oh, yes! call him I'.laekeap. Theie 
was a whoK' lloek of them in ihe l)n,slu's, in the 
yaid where those pink berries are. 

7'(<ii//cr. — \N\\() knows his name? 

lidi///. — Was il Ihe Chiek-a dee-dee ? 



8o //()]r SI/ALL MY CI urn nE tauciit? 

TcacJicr. — The Chick-a-dee. That name is for 
his song; his other name is '' ]^]ack-cappecl Tit- 
mouse." ''Titmouse" is liis family name. Have 
you all heard him sing? 

Several. — Yes, indeed, we all know Chick-a- 
dee-dce. 

TeacJicr. — He stays here all winter long, and 
we like him ; why, Carrie } 

Carrie. — Because he is so funnv and nimble. 

Lulu. — And so gay and not afraid. 

Prescott. — I think, because he hops about the 
yard and gets the crumbs we throw him, and perks 
his head on every side and winks his eye at us. 

Bertha. — Don't you think it is more because 
his song is so cheery, and he stays all winter.^ 

TeacJier. — You are all right. Hear about his 
nest and his eggs. He finds a snug hole in a post 
or tree, perhaps in a birch-tree, and lines it with 
soft feathers, or moss, or wool ; then the last part 
of May is chosen as the best time to lay the eggs, 
— six little spotted eggs. Many of them go away 
farther north in the summer, and those who stay 
here are more shy, and keep more at home in the 
trees, where they pick out little bugs and insects' 
eggs lioiii under the bark of the tree, as the Wood- 



ORAL LESSONS. 8 1 

peckci's do ; then in the fall they arc as lively and 
merry and social as ever. 

Mabel. — I guess they are modest about their 
plain clothes when all the other birds are here. 

Teacher. — Now, here are two eggs of the Chick- 
a-dee, and a picture of him, which Louie may draw 
on the board. Tell me his other name. 

AIL — Black-capped Titmouse. 

Teacher, — But these birds were not of the 
hosts I spoke about, flying from the South, coming 
now, and all through March. I mean a larger 
bird. 

Helen. — Robins. They are the ones that eat 
worms, and make mud and straw nests. 

Teacher. — You are right. Where do they make 
their nests, Helen } 

Helen. — Up in the apple-trees, in a corner by 
two or three branches. They plaster mud all in 
the place, and poke sticks around in it for a found- 
ation. I have got one at home. 

Teacher. — Here is one. It had to be pulled off 
of the boughs. See how strong it is, and rough 
outside ; but is it rough inside, Ethel } 

Ethel. — Oh, no; it is all lined with soft hairs 
and feathers, for the eirgs to rest on. 



<^2 //DW SUA 1. 1. A/y cmi.n in: lAucirr^ 

liuulirr. What is llu! (oloi ol llu- Kobiii ? 

I Idllic. I l)t'lic;vc it is .L;i"ciy and brown on the 
toj), and dcc|) icd nndcrnrath. 

7'(<i(//cr. — i vvanl you lo vvatcli carefully, and 
1)1' ri-ady to describe exactly the color and (oiin of 
the i\obin. Vou will be sure to see some of them 
within a week. Notice the coloi" of his head, his 
bill, and K\i;s, as well as his back, tail, and breast. 
See whethei" his tail is loiked, and whether he 
jerks it oi" not. Watch wlu-ther he luns or hops, 
and what he c-ats. 1 lattie, you may diaw and paint 
a ])ictuie ol him lor us to see; and who can bring 
his c<;i;s ? 

1 1(1(11. — I can ; they are lovely in color. 

7\(i(//<r. — Yes, so lovely and so peculiar that 
we can only call it Ivol)in's-ei;L'; blue. I low many 
Cg}:^s are usually in one nest, and at what time of 
year ? 

//(•/(■//. — - l'\)ur or five, in Apiil. We only take 
one OI two i'f-;.i;s out of a nest, and we don't take 
the nest till fall. Olivei' and I -ot tluan. 

('(trric. — I wish you I'ould see them, Mi"s. 11., 
on our lawn, t u_i;i;in.L;" at the worms, switcdiini;" them 
out ol the _ij;i'ass alter a shower, and llnai biting 
them in shoit pieces, and Hying oil with a tassel 



ORAL /./'SSONS. 83 

of worms lianging from their bills. They hop, and 
look around, and hop ag-ain ; then thoy run so fast 
you can't sec their legs go, and then they make a 
dive for a worm, and jerk him out by degrees ; it 
is so funny ! 

IIc/cN. — I saw them, last year, feeding the little 
birds, in a nest up in the big spruce-tree, right out 
of my chand)er window. The young ones peeped 
and peeped, and crowded up, and opened their 
mouths as wide as all out-doors, while their mother 
and father kept coming with worms to drop into 
their big mouths. 

TeacJicr. — How much worm docs one little 
robin eat in a day.-^ 

Lulu. — Oh, I'm sure I don't know. 

TcacJicr. — A man tried it once ; he took a 
young robin out of the nest and fed it all day, and 
it ate fourteen feet of good, fat worm, — as much 
as if you should eat forty chickens, at least. They 
are greedy little creatures. Think what a number 
of worms are made only to feed the young robins 
every year. Are the robins of any use to the 
farmers } 

Mabel. — I don't know. I should think they di.l 
harm, for they bite the cherries and strawberries, 



^'^ //()ir SUM I Mv (•/////> /.'/■; tauciit? 



.'iikI spoil in'iii l\' ;ill ()( oiiis ; iiiid in llu' l;ill tluy 
l)iti" lilt' lipr ;i|)i)K'S iiiid |»c:ii"s. 

'rrncJuy. 'I'liic ; hiil, lor ;ill tlml, llu'\' Ix-iidit 
llu' fiiniu'i imicli iiion' lli;iii llu'\' iiijiiit' liim. 'I'lu'V 
(■;i( up iii)'ii;iils ol di'sl nut i\'i' woiiiis iind ciitcipil- 
l;irs ;ind l)ii!',s whicli would spoil luucli \'i'!',t't;il ion 
and 1 1 nil. Do \\\v\ i isc rai h\ or laic, in I he mo in 
in_<; ? 

luitliii. — Oil, very carh'. I think Ihcy inust 
^'.('1 up ht'forc dayli",ht, lof llu'\' hcidii to siii;^ just 
wluai a liltir lainl sticak ol dawn coiius thioiii;!! 
llir window. 

'/'(•(ul/ii: — 'V\\vy art' up by lialf-pasl three. Who 
can (Use i ihe their soni;' .'' 

Miibi'I. I know pisl liow it ;;oi's. It is a little 
sad at ni^hl, but very inusieal, I think. 

Tiihlhr. I am L;lad \'ou lia\'e iiotieed it. 
lias any oiu> lieaid their eall to their mates, or 
1 heir chirp to 1 he yoiin"; ones } 

.'l/,ii^j^/i\ \'i's, indeed; when llie\' try to <;"et 
the N'ounj;' ones to Ih', tlu'\' t liiip all the time. 

/■'///i/. In the idnilHH\s, on our street, you 
hear them all ^\A\ Ion;',, in June, and it S(»unds like 
a jolU chatter. 

I\\ulur. — riicii lamily name is Thiiish. They 



OKAI, I I'.SSOh'S. 85 

arc coiniiii; loward us now, llyiu!; (|iiitr lii.L;li, in 
merry coiiipanics, lioiii llu- Soiilli. Soon llu- lUiic- 
biids will sliiit, ;m(l llv si ill hi,L;lu'i-, sin_L;iii.L; loudly 
and tliarly on llu- wini;, --ihc [)ic'ludo ol \\\c. 
spiinu, lo llu' snowd)ound Noilli. VVaUh tor him, 
and It'll nic ol his size, his color, and his ii.d)ils, 
when you see him. 

luit/id. \ saw a whole llo(d< of (hem alii;hl on 
the telegraph-wire and ienci's and Irees around, as 
J was drivin*;' yesteiday on I he Aeuslinel load. 
'Idiey iliil lo(jk lovely ; so blue, and sueh a pietty 
blue! 

TcacJifr. - 'I'liey want some luc^e holes, oi" bii'd- 
houscs, or boxes, to livt: in. I hope tlu-y will lind 
them and <;-et sheltered soon, lor we shall have 
some bitter cold days yet. Is the lUuebiid's 
e-g- blue? 

Helen. — Yes, Hglit blue, sometimes while. I 
will brin<;" one to-moriow. 

Tcaclirr. Now, foi- a while, the Hluebiid must 
cat bciaies ; but later, 1)U.l;s and beetles. It sprin<;'S 
liom the lwi<^ or pi-ich, and snaps u|) the Hyiui;" 
insect in the aii", oi" the bei:tK' and ^lassho])- 
pei- fioin the glass. lias it any eoloi but blue 
about it ? 



86 HOW SI/ALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

Lulu. — It has a kind of red breast, and partly 
white underneath. 

Teacher. — It comes in March, sometimes in 
February, and builds its nest in April. It lays its 
first brood of eggs in May, but it often has two or 
three broods in the course of the summer, and 
they eat up myriads of insects. They go away 
again in October. Their song is sweet, but a 
little sad. Now they come flying on their long- 
journey through the windy sky, singing as they 
come. How do you suppose they know the way? 

Hattie. — That's what I always wonder. 

Teacher. — So everybody wonders. I read a 
long article in a British magazine, the other day, 
upon the migrations of birds, but it did not solve 
the riddle, to my mind. Many people think the 
birds have a way of knowing things, so different 
from any way we know of seeing or hearing that 
we cannot understand it, — another sense which 
guides them ; others think they learn the road by 
their keen sight and hearing, and that they have 
a regular track, which each generation of birds 
teaches to the next, and on which they have signs 
or guide-posts for following. Great flocks of birds 
that go from Africa to Europe, every year, cross 



ORAL LESSONS. 8/ 

the Mediterranean at the same places, by just the 
same routes ; one across the Straits of Gibraltar, 
and two others farther east. But we can't under- 
stand the birds as they understand each other. 
God takes care of them, and shows them in some 
way what path to take. Now, Carrie and Maggie, 
repeat together the last verse of Bryant's poem, 
which you recited in concert yesterday ; and all 
be sure, before our next lesson, to observe the 
birds as they arrive. 
Carrie and Maggie. — 

" He who, from zone to zone, 
Guides through the boundless sky thy certam flight, 

In the long way that I must tread alone 
Will lead my steps aright." 



ORAL LESSONS IN BOTANY. 
I. 

TeacJier. — Close against our windows comes 
the bough of the Birch-tree which grows in the 
yard. See ! its twigs are all naked except for 
these little buds, and yet, in three weeks perhaps, 
it will be covered with the prettiest little green 



S8 NOJV SHALL MV CHILD BE 7\4UGHT? 

plaited leaves. I will break off a twig for each of 
you, and you may tell me what you observe upon 
it. What color is it ? 

Ethel. — It is dark brown. 

TeacJicr. — Yes ; it is the Sweet Birch. Taste 
of the bark. 

Ethel. — It is good ; something like Sassafras. 
I thought the Birch-tree had white bark. 

Teacher. — The White Birch has; this is an- 
other kind of Birch. They are alike in the kind 
of flowers they bear, and the kind of leaves, and 
in the twigs and bark having this spicy taste, also 
in the way the outer bark will strip off in thin 
layers. How do the leaves grow on the stem — 
opposite or alternate t 

Sylvia. — They are alternate. Do they always 
come so, Mrs. .'* 

Teacher. — Yes ; the same plant never varies in 
the arrangement of its leaves on the stem. Look 
out of the west window at the Maple-tree. How 
do those buds grow on the stem } 

Gertrude. — They are opposite ; and the twigs 
are opposite on the branches. 

7>c?r/'ry'. - Those buds are flower-buds on the 
Maple. On the Birch they are leaf-buds. Now 



ORAL LESSONS. 89 

remember that flowers and leaves grow either 
opposite or alternate on their stems, in most 
cases, but in a few they are set right around the 
stem in a sort of ruffle, — they are whorled. Op- 
posite, alternate, and whorled are names for the 
manner in which the leaves or flowers are ar- 
ranged on the stem. Repeat it. But look again 
at your Sweet Birch stem. Scrape off a little of 
the brown bark. What do you see now } 

Louie. — A nice, fresh, green skin. It is damp. 

Teacher. — Pull that off. Now what do you 
find ? 

Maggie. — The wood. It is a little wet, and 
very smooth. 

Teacher. — Look at the ends of the twigs where 
they were broken off. 

Carrie — Mine drips with water. 

TeacJier. — That is the blood of the tree ; the 
sap which runs through its veins and cells, and 
will build up the twig, and turn the buds into 
leaves. The little green inner bark has kept food 
for the tree stored up all winter, and now the sap 
is beginning to rise from the roots up through the 
wood, and both together provide nourishment for 
the buds, and, as they absorb it, they make more 



90 //()//' SHALL J/]' CLLLLD LU-] TAUGHT? 

and more cells, and grow from buds to leaves. 
How do you think the sap gets up so far ? All 
this hard wood is made up of the hard cases of 
long fine boxes or cells filled with sap. The roots 
of the tree suck up from the ground, as soon as 
it is soft, moisture and particles of plant-food, and 
this is carried from one cell to another, through 
little pores in the partitions at the ends of the 
cells, oozing up and mixing with what is already 
there, running through the veins quite fast, now 
that spring has come. See how the ends of the 
broken twigs on the tree drip ! How fast all this 
food will be made into the pretty, plaited leaves 
you will see day by day. The tree is working 
very fast with all its machinery of cells, roots, 
sap, bark, and buds. Now open the bud, and 
tell me how it is put together, and what you find. 

Mabel. — It has some sticky leaves or brown 
scales outside. Then inside are little fine folded- 
up leaves, folded up something like a fan, all 
crimped and plaited — oh, so fine! all folded 
alike, with little pointed edges. Isn't it pretty } 

Teacher. — In a week' we will examine the 
leaves more carefully. Do you see any marks 
on the stems, below the leaves } 



ORAL LESSONS. 9 1 

Lily. — There are some smooth, flat places. 
What are they ? 

Teacher. — They are the places where last 
year's leaves came off. The scars, we call them. 
When you find a Horse-chestnut stem or twig, 
notice how large and plain the scars are. The 
leaf fell off in the fall, you know. Do all plants 
lose their leaves in the fall ? 

Madge. — No ; the Pine-tree does not. 

Alice. — There are some trees over in that yard 
that are green all winter. 

Teacher. — The Spruce and Hemlock, and all 
trees called Evergreens, keep their leaves, and 
form new twigs with new leaves on them at the 
end of their boughs each spring. The trees all 
form that inner bark fresh every year, and it saves 
up the food for the new parts to grow with in the 
spring before the roots can get much food from 
the frozen ground. The sun, becoming warmer, 
sets all the growing machinery at work. The 
inner bark, soft at first, grows hard by the end of 
the summer and another inner bark is formed over 
it, so that, as every successive year this layer of 
bark is made, it always shows a line of separation 
between it and the outer layer ; and when you 



9- //(>//■ S//.U / MY cmi.n />•/•; 'J'al'cht^ 

saw iMT a trro lu>ri/iMUall\-. on its trunk \-ini soo 
the rini;s all ai-oinul llio ocnlro quite plainh'. In 
this wav, one can toll how nianv years oUI a 
tree is. 

Holly. — Will all those Inuls i;ro\v and open ? 

Tt'dc/irr. — Terhaps not. Some nia\" die and 
fall oii, if the sun dcH\^n't shine direetlv o\\ them. 
The tVost may eome and kill some, or a little 
worm o\- insect may eat others. The leayes will 
not probably bo quite as rei;ular and many on the 
twig" as these little buds. Now, <\o \o\\ want a 
hartl woid belore }'ou go .^ I^xOi^rnoKS is the word. 
This is an exogencurs stem ; it grows by atUling 
e\er\- \ear to the outside ot' the stem. So (.lo all 
our trees ; but the Talm-tree or a corn-stalk or a 
cane, and others, grow h\ adding to the inside of 
the stem, which looks like a large bundle of fibres, 
new tibi'cs or threacks each \ear. The\' are rn- 
Joi^rnous stems. luulogenous stems ha\"e no 
branches, but all their leaf-stems come cnit at the 
top of the stalk, l^xogenous stems haye a pith 
or scU't {xirt. of cells in the middle. woihI around 
it, and bark (Hitside, and the\" hax'c man\ 
blanches, a new set e\er\- \ear on the whole 
length of the stem. 



ORAL /.r.ssoxs. 93 

You have now Icanicd the i)cciiHaritics of the 
P)ireli-steiTi, the arran;;enient of buds in three (hf- 
ferent ways upon (Hfferent i)lants, the gnjwth of 
the bud just above the sear of tlie last year's 
growth, the way in whicli the buds are fed while 
the ground is yet hard, the formation and method 
of growth of this branch and most trees, and the 
distinction between the exogenous and endoge- 
nous stems. Iking any budded stem or opening 
leaves, or any other subject for explanation about 
plants to-morrow, and we will examine it ; and, at 
all events, in a few days we will look again at our 
l^irch leaf-buds, and our Maple flower-buds, anrl 
see what we may learn about them. Bring a 
Horse-chestnut stem budded, if you can. 

Teddy. — I can, and a good many other stems, 
too. 

11. 

TcacJier. — We have come into the green-house 
to study the climbing-plants : we must look to see 
how they climb, what parts they have which are 
for only that purpose, and how those i)arts do the 
work of clim])ing for the plant, to lift it into the 
warmth and light. Some of the climbers you know 



94 now SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

very well by name. I see several vines of English 
Ivy ; I want you all to look closely at them to see 
how they climb the wall or trellis they are upon. 

Louise. — This one seems to stick tightly to 
the wall. 

Bei'lha. — They have little roots which go into 
the cracks. 

TcacJier. — Where do those rootlets come from t 

EtJieL — Out of the stem on the side next to 
the wall. 

Teacher. — Do you see any which have not 
attached themselves or taken hold of the wall } 

Edith. — This vine has lots of dried threads 
hanging from it ; are they the roots } 

Teacher. — Look at Edith's vine which is run- 
ning along the wire. The rootlets are all hanging 
withered from it because, having searched in vain 
for something to cling to, they have given it up, 
and died of uselessness. 

Hattie. — How do they know anything, or feel 
about of their own accord } 

Teacher. — That is a hard question to answer; 
so you will need to use your eyes well, and try, by 
the time the lesson is over, to answer it yourselves. 
If you could watch these little roots which put 



ORAL LESSONS. 95 

out from 'the stem, you would see them feeling 
about for a deeper cleft or a more uneven surface, 
and when they find it they stop, and their ends 
flatten into little disks like saucers, which hold on 
just as a leather sucker holds on to the surface 
you apply it to. Bring the miscroscope and look 
carefully at them ; see the disc which holds this 
rootlet fast. 

Maggie. — It is like the snail's foot. 

Carrie. — It is like the sea-weed, where it 
fastens to a shell. 

Teacher. — Does the German Ivy climb so.'' 
Look at this on the trellis. 

Louie. — No, it twines around. I think the 
German Ivy is prettier than the English ; it is 
greener and more delicate. 

Teacher. — Yes, but in England, where the 
climate is warmer and moister in winter than 
here, the English ivy' is greener and fresher, — 
not of the sombre, dark green and brown that 
you always see here. In New Bedford the 
English ivy thrives better out-of-doors than in 
most places in New England. Where does it 
grow most luxuriantly here .-* 

Bertha. — On Mr. Allen's house, and on the 



96 I/O IV SHALL MY CI/LLD BE TAUGHT? 

Stone cottage on County Street. Oh, Mrs. H., I 
threw a snowball up to the ivy on the side of Mr. 
Allen's house, the other day, and out flew the 
greatest flock of English sparrows. I wish you 
could have seen them. I didn't know there were 
so many in town. 

Teacher. — Well, that is good ; the ivy shelters 
the birds ; perhaps the birds reciprocate by eating 
up the bugs that might destroy the ivy. There is 
a great deal of mutual help in nature. But have 
you observed more carefully how the German ivy 
climbs } Ethel, you tell us what you see. 

Ethel. — I see it twisting around the wire by 
its stem. 

Teacher. — All tell me whether it is by the 
leaf-stem or the main stalk. 

All. — By the main stalk. 

Gertrude. — The stem is all kinky trying to get 
around. 

Hattie. — How does it get around } 

Teacher. — I will show you before we go. 
Look at the Nasturtium vines ; how do they 
climb — by the main stem, or by the leaf-stalk } 

Alice. — This one holds on by its leaf-stems. 
Just see how funny those stems look that have 



ORAL LESSONS. 97 

not got hold! they are bent right up, and have 
turned a square corner. 

Teacher. — Th^X is to push the pretty, shield- 
shaped leaf up with its face to the light ; as it is 
clinging to a horizontal support, it has to turn 
the stem around suddenly to accomplish it. Do 
you all see how it twists its leaf-stems around 
the string, and how the plant climbs in that way .? 
This, now, is the third way in which we have 
seen the plants climbing, since we came in. 
Here is the Passion Flower, whose leaf-stalk is 
long and much twined. 

Heleji. — Do just come to see this lovely vine ; 
what is it } 

Teacher. — It is called Campsidunn Filicifolinm. 
It has no common name. I admire it, it is so 
delicately beautiful. What does it remind you of, 
Hattie t 

Hattie. — I have seen ferns which look like it. 
Its leaf is more finished and elegant, I think ; 
don't you, Mrs. H. t 

Teacher. — Yes, it is a kind of fern, and its leaf 
much like the frond of the fern ; but every part of 
its compound leaf is as perfect as if it were the 
only thing the spirit of the plant had to express 



98 I/O IV SHALL A/V CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

itself in. Look at this fine, tapering point of 
the stem reaching out from the hne where it 
cUmbs ; it goes round slowly, seeking its orbit, 
and makes the circuit in just the time nature 
has appointed for it ; by to-night, perhaps, it will 
have reached this side and will point opposite. It 
is twining and twining, while its leaves unfold to 
grace the air and adorn the trellis. It twines by 
its main stalk, like the German Ivy, and the end 
looks almost like a tendril, but it develops leaves 
and buds as it grows. Come with me ; I want to 
show you a vine with compound leaves, where the 
mid-vein spins out into a long, slender tendril. 
Here it is. It would be hard work to disentangle 
the leaves. Look and tell me about it. 

Louise. — It has a compound leaf, and it is 
fastened at both ends, — by one to the stem, and 
by the other to the trellis. 

TcacJier. — Are the tendrils straight, or curled .'' 
(Some answer ''Yes" and some ''No.") Are the 
straight tendrils those that have begun to twine 
or not } 

Maggie. — Oh, isn't it queer ! they are straight 
before they get hold of anything, and curled all 
up tight afterward. 



ORAL LESSONS. 99 

Teacher. — The long, straight tendril sweeps 
its point around till it finds a chance to cling; 
then, being so long, the leaf is a good way off, 
and so the tendril begins to coil between the 
support and the leaf, to bring the stalk near its 
support. Does it coil one way exclusively ? 

Helen. — Oh, no ; it goes on the same way for a 
while, and then turns round and goes the other 
way, — just like the reverse waltz. What is that 
for? 

Teacher. — Do you all see it } Would it not 
twist the stem too much if this were not so ? It 
is an ingenious device. It seems as if the tendril 
thought about it. Did you ever see the grape- 
vine tendrils do the same? 

Bertha. — Yes, indeed; I know just how they 
look. How can they do it ? Are they creatures 
to know ? 

Louise. — Do you remember about that Mur- 
derer Vine in the Amazon forest, that you showed 
me a picture of ? 

Teacher. — Yes, I do, and so do you all. 



lOO JJOir SJJALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 



III. 

TcacJicr. — We spoke of the Birch-tree storing 
up its nourishment for the early leaf-buds, in the 
inner bark. Nearh' all plants save food in some 
of their parts for the next year's i;ro\vth. This is 
what seems to me a proof of God's presence in it 
and care for it, — the rrovidcucc which we use as 
a name for God. Here is a little plant living 
almost wholly upon that food provided last year 
for its growth this year. What is it } 

Class. — It is a bean growing in water. 

TcacJicr. — The split bean is really two thick 
leaves, which serve as food for the plant which is 
growing up from the little bud or germ that was 
set between them like a little tooth. That little 
germ was the real seed, and sent down these 
roots, and sent up this stem which is opening into 
buds and leaves. Tell me of other plants that 
will grow so in water living on its stored-up food 
for a while. 

JMabcI. — The Flax-seed will. I put some 
cotton-wool on the top of a glass of water, and in 
a week or two the glass was filled with delicate 



ORAL LESSONS. lOI 

rootlets and the light green stems and leaves 
grew up, with afterward a gentle blue flower here 
and there among them. 

Sylvia. — I have some Hyacinths in bulb- 
glasses, and they are all in bloom beautifully in 
my window. 

TeacJicr. — Where have they found the food 
which has nourished them } The bean, you see, 
is gradually shrivelling as it gives up its food to 
the plant. How is it vvith the Hyacinth t Do 
you see any part which seems to be giving 
and fading while the plant is gaining all the 
time.'^ 

Sylvia. — It is the bulb that becomes less and 
less every day. It must be that which has the 
food. 

Teacher. — Now, I believe, if you think, you 
can tell me how the bulb must have been formed. 
What part of the last year's plant might have 
been transformed into the bulb. Did you see that 
great Mexican plant in the green-house, the other 
day.'' I showed you the long leaves, so exceed- 
ingly thick toward the ground, and liow as they 
thickened and packed themselves at the base, the 
upper part shrivelled and fell off. I have a bulb 



102 J/0 IF SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

which is just brought up from the cellar; what 
were all these layers last year ? 

Maggie. — Oh, were they the leaves ? 

Louie. — Yes ; I suppose the leaves thickened 
and closed together at the base, and the tops 
withered and fell off. 

Teacher. — Yes ; that was the way the wise 
plant took to save itself for early growth another 
year. Here is another bulb which has sprouted 
in the warm, damp cellar, and much of the 
nourishment has already gone from the bulb to 
the new leaves. 

Ethel. — What makes the leaves so light and 
yellow ? 

TeacJier. — The want of sunlight, which gives 
the green color to plants. The celery is kept in a 
dark place or covered purposely, so that it shall 
be crisp and white. Now here is a turnip, a 
carrot, and a cabbage. Tell me, Gertrude, where 
they have stored their provision. 

Gertrude. — The cabbao'e has stored it in the 

o 

leaves. Is it a bulb .^ 

Teachers -^ No ; because the whole leaf is 
thickened and made close and solid ; it is a head. 
What is the turnip .? Are there any signs of 



ORAL LESSONS. IO3 

leaves in it, or is it a seed with food-leaves like 
the bean ? 

Carrie. — I should think it is a root. 

Teacher. — So it is ; and do you know of any 
other thick root which not only feeds the new 
plant, but feeds us when we choose ? 

Edith. — Isn't the radish .one ? 

Teacher. — Yes ; tell me of some other bulb, Lily. 

Lily^ — The Lily is one ; not I, but the Lily- 
plant, for I am saving some bulbs that grand- 
mother gave me to plant in my garden. 

Teacher. — Now, all repeat to me the ways we 
have discovered in which a plant jays up nourish- 
ment for the next year's plant. 

Class. — Inner bark, food-leaves of the seed, 
bulbs, and roots. 

Teacher. — The food-leaves are seed-leaves, or 
cotyledons ; write the word cotyledons. Here are 
the cotyledons of the bean. The other day, in the 
green-house, we saw a large bed of little plants 
just sprung up from the seeds which had been 
planted in the ground. I pointed out the two 
leaves of each plant nearest the ground, and you 
saw how they differed from the other leaves ; 
they were the seed-leaves or cotyledons. Watch 



I04 HOJV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

your Morning-glories and Balsams when they 
begin to come up in a month or two ; the seed- 
leaves are quite different from the true leaves. 
Are any of you going to have a garden ? 
Class. — Yes, indeed. 



IV. 

Teacher. — A few weeks ago we observed the 
Maple-tree filled with flower-buds ; what have you 
seen since in the tree ? 

Mabel. — You called our attention for several 
days to the tree, when it was all alive with bees 
gathering honey ; a swarm of bees in the sunny 
air flew back and forth between this tree and the 
one opposite. 

Carrie. — Why did they go from one tree to 
another } 

Edith. — There were flowers on the other tree 
also. 

Louie. — They always gather honey from one 

kind of tree or blossom at the same time, so as 

« 
not to mix different kinds of honey. 

Maggie. — Did it do any good for them to fly 

back and forth } 



ORAL LESSONS. IO5 

Teacher. — Those who read in the Fairy Land 
of Science last term can tell us. 

Ethel. — They got their backs and heads and 
legs covered with pollen-dust in getting the 
honey, and the pollen rubbed off of them on to 
the stigma, to turn into seeds in the ovary of the 
flowers. 

Teacher. — Here is a flower, like most flowers, 
with the yellow dust of the pollen ready to fall on 
the pistil, which is in the middle of the flower. 
But examine now the flower of this Maple-tree, 
and see if you can find the stigma. 

Class. — We cannot. 

Teacher. — Now look at these flowers, taken 
from the opposite tree. 

Prescott. — The stigma is in these. 

Teacher. — See what kind, neighborly trees ! 
One has the pollen, the other the ovary ; and 
the bees and the breeze work and carry for 
them. In Nature all things help each other. 
Now on which tree will the seeds or the fruit 
grow } 

Gertrude. — On the opposite tree. 

Maggie. — Oh, yes ; I remember all the Maple- 
keys that hang down red from some of the Maple- 



I06 NO IV SHALL MV CLLLLD BE TAUGHT? 

trees, and then turn brown and fall to the ground 
and blow away. 

Teacher. — Here is a Pussy Willow twig ; how 
will this little furry bud develop ? 

Carrie. — Into a drooping spray of flowers 
called a catkin. 

Maggie. — There are two kinds of Willow cat- 
kins : one is a spray of little light flowers ; the 
other is more green, and less like a flower. 

TeacJier. — Can you guess, then, which catkin 
has the pollen, and which the stigma or ovary, 
and, therefore, the seed } 

Lo2iie. — The flowery catkin has the pollen, and 
the other the seed, I should think. 

TeacJier. — Have you ever seen the seed-catkin 
all covered with down 1 

Several. — No ; that is green without the fuzz. 

Others. — Yes ; later the seed-catkin is covered 
wdth down. 

Teacher. — When the seed-catkin has ripened, 
and the seeds are all ready to plant, they burst 
out into a feathery, white down. What for, 
Ethel .? 

EtJiel. — Is it so that the wind will blow the 
seeds about ? 



ORAL LESSONS. IO7 

All. — Oh, yes ; like the Dandelion-puff and the 
Thistle. 

Teacher. — You are right ; like the beautiful 
Milkweed-seeds also. Now you see why the 
Maple-seeds are winged — for the same purpose. 
What is this twig .^ How very pretty! How 
should you judge this to be from an Oak-tree } 

Dolly. — I should know it from the shape of 
the leaves. 

Teacher. — What is the blossom } 

Class. — A catkin. Six catkins in a cluster, 
and the clusters all around the twig, hanging 
below the leaves. 

Teacher. — Do you see both pollen and stigma 
here .'' 

Maggie. — There is no stigma in these flowers. 
Where are the seed-flowers, Mrs. H. .'' 

Teacher. — What do you see close to the stem, 
below the catkins } 

Carrie. — Little, cunning acorns, just beginning 
to grow. 

Teacher. — What do you see at the point of the 
little acorns } 

Sylvia. — I see three little stems or hairs. 

Teacher. — They are the three parts of the 



lOS //()//- SHALL MY CLLILD BE TAUGHT? 

Stigma, ami when the pollen from the catkins falls, 
it is received by them and carried to the ovar\'. 
making the seed of the .Acorn. Look, now, at 
these Horse-chestnut blossoms. Mxamine them 
with regard to the pollen and the stigma. 

Hetta, — Mine have the pollen but no stigma. 

Lily. — Mine have the pollen and stigma both. 

Louie. — One of mine has the pollen and the 
other the ovary. 

TcacJicr. — You all are right. Some of the flow- 
ers have both pollen and ovary ; some have onlv 
stamens bearing the pollen, and, therefore, will 
have no seeds ; they are the staminate or sterile 
flowers. Others have the stigma, — the top of 
the pistil which leads to the ovary, — and, there- 
fore, bear seeds ; so are called the pistillate or 
fertile flowers. Now tell me whether the catkins 
of the Oak are staminate or pistillate. 

Class. — Staminate. 

TcacJicr. — And how is it with the early Pussy 
Willow catkins } 

L.ouic. — They are staminate, and the green 
ones pistillate. 

TcacJicr. — The Maple-tree which bears the 
staminate flowers ? 



ORAL LESSONS. IO9 

Class. — The one close to the window, and the 
opposite one has the pistillate flowers and the 
seeds. 

Teacher. — There are,* then, three methods of 
arrangement for the fruiting of the plant. One 
flower may contain both stamens and pistil like 
the Rose, and most of the flowers we see ; or, one 
plant may have the staminate flowers and another 
the pistillate, like the Willow and the Maple ; or, 
the same plant may have the staminate flower on 
one part, and the pistillate flower on another part 
of it, like the Oak and like the lovely Indian Corn, 
whose plume of staminate flowers waves on high, 
while its sea-green silk pistils are folded in their 
beautiful sheath below, waiting for the grains of 
pollen to seek its long, silky channels, and rest in 
its ovary cells, all to develop into the ripened 
rows of amber corn, the matchless beauty of the 
set gems of the corn-fruit. In the Chestnut we 
have a combination of all these methods. Using 
the technical terms, which we will analyze to 
understand, we find, therefore, the Monoecious 
form, like the Oak ; the Dioecious, like the Wil- 
lows ; and the Polygamous, like the Chestnuts. 

Mabel. — I think this is the most interesting 



no now SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

part of botany, to watch how the flowers make 
seeds. 

Carrie. — It seems as if they all knew some- 
thing ; do they ? 

Maggie. — There must be a thought about it. 

Teacher. — How sweet it is to see and feel that 
thought, and know that it is the same thought 
that is trying to act in our lives as easily and 
truly as it acts in the flowers ! 



CHAPTER X. 

PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 
I. 

Teacher, — Prescott, yesterday I saw you draw- 
ing Dick up Union Street in your cart. Was it 
as easy for you as to draw him down the hill ? 

Prescott. — No, ma'am ; but I had to hold back 
almost as hard going down. 

Teddy. — The cart goes itself down the hill. 

Teacher. — Oh, no; something is pulling it down 
which you didn't see. Let go of that book in 
your hand ; what made it go down } 

Willie. — It is heavy. 

Teacher. — What does heavy mean } 

Prescott. — Hard to hold up. 

Teddy. — It pushes hard. 

Teacher. — There is a power of the earth which 
pulls everything toward it. It is called gravita- 
tion. You may all write the word. It makes 
things seem heavy when they push hard toward 



112 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

the earth, or have much weight. Did you ever 
try to lift something which you could not lift, 
which was too heavy for you ? 

Lottie. — I tried to lift Willie's boat, and it was 
too heavy. 

Teacher. — The earth pulled it stronger than 
you could. The earth pulls all things all the 
time. Can you think of anything which will not 
drop when you let it go } 

Madge. — A feather will fly away, and a seed 
and leaves sometimes. 

TeacJier. — There is something you do not see 
which holds them up, although the earth still 
pulls them down. Who knows what .-* 

Maggie. — The wind blows the leaves, and the 
hot air will keep up any light thing over the 
resfister. 

TeacJier. — The air holds up everything, some- 
what. A feather is so spread out, and there is so 
little of it, really, that the earth does not pull it 
down so strongly as the air holds it up, and the 
hot air pushes up still more than cold air. If you 
hold a piece of paper on the palm of your hand, 
your hand holds it up ; if you take your hand 
away, it goes slowly to the ground, because the 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 113 

air still partially supports it, and its substance is 
so spread out that it gives a large surface for the 
air to support, compared with the weight of it, or 
the force with which the earth pulls it down. 
Now a great part of the force which men use is 
used in resisting this force of the earth, or in lift- 
ing things which are heavy. The other day I saw 
a man lifting very heavy bales into a high window 
in a warehouse. How do you suppose he did it } 
by just pulling them up with a rope } 

Teddy. — I guess he had a pulley. 

Teacher. — So he did. Show me what a pulley 
is ; draw a picture of one on the board. 

Teddy. — He had a rope fastened to the bale, 
and it went up over a little wheel which was fas- 
tened to a beam high up, and the rope hung 
dovvn the other side of the wheel for the man 
to pull. 

Prescott. — When he pulls down, the bale goes 
up. 

Teacher. — That is a contrivance to make it 
easier to pull. Such contrivances are called 
machines. Did you ever see a man try to lift a 
rock which was too heavy for him, by any other 
machine } Prescott, if you had been with Lottie 



114 NO IV SHALL MV CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

when she tried to lift that boat, what could you 
have done to help her ? 

Pj'cscott. — I might have pried it up with a 
stick ; or, if I could have got a crowbar like that 
the men had to get those stones for the cellar up 
on to the truck, I could have done it easily. 

TcacJiei'. — Yes, the crowbar ; that is a ma- 
chine ; a very simple one ; only an iron bar. It 
is like having a very long, strong arm, like a 
gorilla. Aren't you glad that God gave a man a 
mind to think of machines, and did not have to 
make him like an ape '^. What other machines has 
man invented to help lift .'* I will make this 
square to represent the heavy thing which is to 
be lifted. Here is a line for the string to lift it 
by. Now let us have it wind over this axle, which 
has a handle at the end for a man to turn. What 
does that look like a picture of } 

Class. — A well, and drawing up the bucket. 

TeacJicr. — Yes, it is a machine called a wind- 
lass. It is easier to put the strength of a man, or 
of a horse, or of steam, or any other power upon 
turning that handle, or what is the same thing, 
turning a wheel, than it is to set it at work merely 
lifting. Now, in the pulley, which is a string run- 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 1 15 

ning over a wheel, you can easily set some other 
force than man's strength at work. I will make 
this picture of the bale of goods, and the rope 
which lifts it running over the wheel. Now, in- 
stead of having a man pull the rope down, sup- 
pose I want a horse to pull it ; what shall I do } 

Teddy. — Make another wheel, fastened to the 
floor of the loft, and let the rope go round that, so 
that a horse can be fastened to it and walk along, 
pulling it, and back when he lets it down. 

TeacJier. — Suppose I can't get the horse up in- 
to the loft very well 1 

Prescott. — Why, let him be down on the 
ground, and have the other pulley down there, 
and it will be all the same, — just as they do at 
the coal yards to load the vessels with coal. 

Teacher. — Tell me of all the machines you 
have seen, for the next lesson. Write the names 
of them on a paper, and be ready to explain when 
and how they worked when you saw them ; and if 
you ever have something to do which you think 
at first you cannot do, set your wits at work to 
think of a way to get some other power to help 
you. Invent a machine to do your work for you. 
That is the way for a Yankee boy or girl, and 



1 1 6 j/ow sj/.-i / /. j/y i mi. n be ta i ^cit t t 

lor ovorv ono who wants to aoooiiiplish inuoh in 
the world. 

II. 

Teacher, — Hero is tho ash-cart. chiUh-on ; thoro 
aio throe barrels tull ot ashos. 'l1io\- will bo 
hoa\\- (or tho man to lift. 

Preseott. — I know how ho will i;ot thorn \\\^. 
He will take tho baok-board ont, and loan it up 
ai^ainst the oart and roll tho barrel up. 

Teddy. — Then all tho ashes will fall out. 

Freseott. — Well, if tho\' woio tlour barrels, he 
could roll them up. 

Teih'/ier. — Su[)poso thov wore tlour-bairols, whv 
would he roll them ui^ ? 

Willie. — It isn't so hanl \o lift them. 

Teiie/ier. — The board partlv supports iIvmu ; it 
is a machine ; it makes it easier to ovoroomo 
»;ravitation. and adds to tho torco o[ tho man. 
That board, or anxthim;- which i;i\os a slant iui; 
surfvico ou which a weight is raised, is an iiteliued 
flaue. The moaniui;- of th.o name is clear. Did 
M>n over see a man olu->p wood, and then put a 
wedge like this (^>) in tho split, and dii\-o it in 
to complete the separalion of the wood ? 



/'A'/MAA'V cr.ASS IN PJ/YSICS. H/ 

Mad^e. ■ — Is that a machine ? 

Teacher. — What is each V)\\'^ side of it ? 

Ethel. — An inclined plane. 

V'eacher. — The wed^e is a machine, then, — a 
double inclined plane. Will it spht the wood 
across, as you mi;:^ht saw it .'* 

Helen. — You have to drive it in with the grain. 

Teacher. — Just as the axe goes in. Now what 
is the axe .' 

Frank. — That is a machine. 

leachcr. — Is there any inclined plane about it .' 

l\'ddy. — It is just like a wedge. 

Teacher. — That is true ; it is a wedge with a 
handle for the man to use in applying the force of 
his muscle to drive the wedge in. What is the 
werlge used for besirles splitting.^ You cannot 
tell. iJid you ever see men raising a building or 
a ship } 

Ma^^ic. — I .saw them launch a ship, and they 
hammered in under it to lift it. Were they driv- 
ing w('dges } 

Teacher. — Yes ; they drive great wedges in 
unrler the keel ; if they drive a small one at first, 
thi'n they can drive in a larger one afterward.s, 
and so raise the ship quite off the ways to launch 



Il8 HO IV SHALL MY CHLLD BE TAUGHT? 

it into the water. Sometimes to press things 
very tightly wedges are used, — to squeeze seeds 
together or fruit, to get the oil or juice. Wedges 
are used in many ways. I want to make a hole 
in this wood ; I cannot press a blunt end through 
it immediately, so I take a wedge which has an 
inclined plane all around it, — this pin, or a nail, 
or an awl, — and push it in ; the resistance of the 
wood is overcome gradually. 

Gertrude. — I never knew that a pin is a ma- 
chine. 

TcacJier. — What is a knife } Are not all sharp, 
cutting instruments wedges } Scissors are two 
wedges pivoted together. See, they work on both 
sides of what is cut, and meet in the middle. 
But what is it that keeps the wedge where it is 
driven } It might slip back, by the pressure on 
the inclined plane. 

Teddy. — It gets pinched in. 

TeacJier. — It is friction which holds it ; the 
roughness of the wedge and the substance which 
it rests in act upon each other to hold it still, 
until some strono-er force of drivins; is used a^ain. 
If you use force to put a thing in motion, when 
does it stop t 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. UQ 

Madge. — When anything stops it. 

Teacher. — What stops a ball after it is thrown ? 

Teddy. — It falls clown. 

Teacher. — The earth stops it by gravitation, 
but it stops it gradually, because the force which 
started the ball yields gradually to the force of 
gravitation, and something else. If you should 
start a ball rolling on a plane, why does it stop ? 
Will it stop sooner on a rough surface than on a 
smooth one ? 

All. — Oh, yes. 

Maggie. — It is the rubbing on the surface it 
rolls on which stops it. 

Teacher. — T\\'^\, i"^ friction. There is less fric- 
tion the smoother the surfaces, but there is some 
friction however smooth the surfaces ; and all the 
friction is not in those surfaces, but a part of it 
in the air. That is what stops a thing moving 
through the air. Even it it were not for gravi- 
tation, the friction of passing through the air 
would stop it. So you see friction stops a mov- 
ing thing and holds it in its place with much 
power. If you rub things together very quickly, 
the friction makes heat and even fire. This was 
the way in which people used to make a blaze. 



1-0 now SUM 1 MY cm ID BK TACCirr? 

If a IhhIv moves very swiftly througli the air, it 
will at last take Ihv. 

TciLiy. - — Rockets will. 

l\iU'Jicr. — Rockets arc set on fire before tlicy 
begin to move ; but meteors or shootini;-stars aie 
great btnlies of metal which are sent spinning 
throngh the earth's atnu^sphcre bv the great force 
of gravitation, and they move so far anil so 
swiftly that they take fire by friction with the air, 
anil burn anil melt as thev whi/z bv, until they 
fall to the earth, and cool to look like a great 
mass of iron-ore. \W^ see them Hashing along 
the sky some nights, ami I have even heard them 
whizz, b^riction has to be taken into account, in 
considering the elfect of an\' application of force. 
It stops and it holds. It makes heat and tlame 
and electricit\'. It is gieater in proportion to the 
roughness of the substances it affects. I was in 
a train of cars once when the\' had to sttip be- 
cause the wheels had grown so hot. 

Prcscott. — They ought to have oiled them 
more, and then it wouKl not have happeneil. 

Teacher. — The oil wouKl have made the sur- 
faces smoother, so that the friction wouUl have 
been much less. Do you know how very much 



J'h'IAfANY CLASS IN PI/YSfCS. 121 

oil is used to make surfaces smooth and lessen 
friction ? 

Carrie. — Machinery has to be oil(,'d very often, 
to i^o smoothly. I saw a man climbiii;^ <i]l r)ver 
the ^rcat engine in the steamer, with an oil-can. 

Teacher. — Did you ever rub sealing-wax on 
woollen until it would attract other things toward 
it, such as hair or feathers } 

Agnes. — I saw Louis drying it one day, anrl the 
sealing-wax was hot. 

Teacher. — That is because the friction brought 
out heat and electricity. l"he heat anrl electricity 
must have been both in the wax ; the friction 
brought it out. Some day wc will say more about 
this ; but now we are thinking about friction only 
as a means to stop and hold ; sometimes of use, 
and sometimes an obstacle to be overcome. An 
obstacle is not worth minding if we can only 
bring force enough to overcome it. We can 
soon learn to turn it to good account. Friction 
wc may set aside for the present, and go back to 
our machines. You may all cut an inclined plane 
from this paper, and wind it around your slate 
pencil from the wide edge. What does this line 
twining around the pencil renu'nd you of.'* 



122 no IV SI/ALL MY CllJLD BE TAUGHT? 

Willie. — It looks like a screw. 

Teacher. — Here is a real screw. Twist it into 
this hole in the wood. The inclined plane is 
turned all around in the hole, gradually working 
its way wholly within. If the winding ^(\^^ of 
the plane is sharp, it cuts its way in like a revolv- 
ing wedge, or it pushes the resisting wood up its 
spiral inclined plane, with a gradual force, easier 
to apply than the sudden blow upon a nail, which 
is only a straight wedge. Remember, then, the 
inclined plane y the it'cdgey and the screw are vari- 
ous forms of the same thing, and used in every 
variety of machine to assist man in the application 
of force to do his work. This/<?/r<? or pozver may 
be man's muscle or the muscular power of some 
animal, the steam of an engine, water, air, elec- 
tricity, or any of the forces of the earth which 
man has learned to use. The machines help the 
natural forces to do more work and with greater 
ease than would be possible without them. 

III. 

Teacher. — Let us see what we know of the 
forces of water, and how they may be used. If 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 1 23 

I put water in this cup, and now punch a hole in 
the bottom, what happens ? 

Holly, — The water runs out. 

Teacher. — Now I will punch a hole in the side. 

Prescott. — The water runs out there, too. 
. Teacher. — Now this teapot is full of water, but 
I am pouring in more } 

Lottie. — It is running out of the spout and 
over the top. 

TeacJier. — And the spout is as high as the top, 
so the water is pushing up as high as the top. 
Which way does water push, then } 

Lily. — It pushes every way. 

Teacher. — If I put this book in the empty 
pitcher, does it change the shape of the book } 

Madge. — No. 

Teacher. — Here is some water in this cup. 
What shape is the water } 

Teddy. — It is the shape of the cup. 

TeacJier. — Suppose it were in a square box 
what shape would it be } 

Prescott. — Water will be the shape of what it 
is in, of course. 

TeacJier. — Now, if I put the water that is in 
the cup into the pitcher, will it change its shape ? 



1-4 //OW SI/.U J MY CHILD 1U< TArcilT? 



AII,— \i will. 

/ tiul'rr. — Tho water spiwuls ilscll cvor\' way, 
then, aiul cliaiii^os its shape, aiul a solid thiiii;- 
does not. 

Mtid^^w — Why (loos it ? 

7\'(U'/.'rr. — I oannot oxplain it nioro than to say 
that tho ]xirliolos oi a solid thini; lu^Kl tt\i;'othcr 
nioro striMii;l\- than tho\- pusli apait, l>ut tho par- 
tiolos o[ \v:itor pnsh apart as oasih' as tho\' hold 
tOL;othor. And how is it with air? Poos tluit 
pnsh ajxnt nioro oasih' or hold nioio tiiinh' lo- 
gothor than water ' 

Ttddv. — It pnshos apart nu^ro easily. 

y\'ih'//n\ — \'es ; it tills e\er\ thini;", no matter 
what its shape or how lai-i;e. Its partieles sepa- 
rate as lar as tliex' ean from eaeh other. Now, 
as to water. \o\\ all ha\e huieets in \-onr luuises ; 
where tloes the water that rnns irom them start ? 

Piwwott. — 1 know ; Irom the l\eser\oir ; ami it 
is junnped there Irom a ponti tnrther oil. It runs 
through pi[)es in the streets and houses. 

/\iU'/irr. — lla\e \ou e\er known whether the 
Reservoir is built \\\) hi^h ov tlui;- iltnvn tleep ? 

Li/y. — My unelc })hinned it, and it is a high 
building. 



J'A'/MAA'V C/.AS.S I\ Pf/VS/CS. 125 

l\'aclu'r. — It has lo In; hi;^h. 1 will show you 
with this bent <;luss tul)c. 1 (hp this end in the 
water, and now look and tell nie how hi;^h it 
comes \\\) in the otlier side of the tube. 

Holly. — Nearly as high as the top of the eup. 

TeacJicr. — Water will run as high and no 
higher than it was where it starterl. Now, some 
of the houses in t(jwn are uj) ow a hill, and high ; 
so in order that the water shall run into their 
pipes, it must start as high as they are, and the 
Reservoir was built as higli as that. 

Prcscott. — At Teddy's they have a tank up in 
the attic ; 1 tlvrnght that was so that the water 
vvoidd run down the pipes. 

Teacher. — That was put there before the water 
from the Acushnet Reservoir was brought in 
pipes, and it was arranged to be filled by the 
spout fioni the roof, 1 su[)pose. JJo you use it 
now, Teddy } 

'j'cddy. — No ; only to sail boats in it, and wade in 
it. Prescott got up to his knees in it, the other day. 

Teacher. — Yes, I remember it very well. He 
had to pull his boat ahjng by a string, as he 
coiddn't use the force of the water to push it. 
How do you get your boat along in the river.'* 



126 J/0]]' SI/. U.I. .!/)• Cllll.n BE TAUCIITl 

j\Iadi:;i\ — We row it. 

Teacher. — What force of the water do you 
use ! 

Holly. — The oar pushes against the water, and 
the water pushes back on the oar. 

Teacher. — Which has to push the harder? 

///)'. — The water. 

P resect t. — No ; the oar. 

Madi^r. — Wh\', one has to push just as hard as 
the other. 

Teacher. — Right, And that brings the boat up 
to the oar when the rower leans back. Now, all 
make believe row, and think how it is. See : you 
depend on the jnishing or resisting force of the 
water against the oar and the force of the man's 
arm to oppose it. Once they had boats with 
three tiers of oars, — ships with a large number 
of rowers. 

Holly. — I know it. That was like the Grecian 
ships, and the ships of Xerxes, the triremes. 

Teacher. — How does the " Martha's Vineyard " 
go? 

Lily. — It goes by steam. 

Teacher. — The steam alone wouldn't make 
it go. 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 12/ 

Prcscott. — The side-wheels make it go. 

Madge. — The steam turns the wheels. 

Teacher. — Who has observed the wheels ? 

Ethel. — They are like a good many oars mov- 
ing, when the wheel turns round. 

Teaeher. — Yes, you must notice that when you 
go off in her, this summer. How is it with the 
propeller } Who knovv^s .^ What does the steam 
do to make it go .'' 

Maggie. — It turns a screw of four great curved 
scullers, at the end of the boat, in the water, and 
the Nonquitt boat goes in the same way. My 
father sliowed me about it, as we came up to town, 
one day. How does a ship go .^ What moves it, 
Mrs. Hopkins } 

Teacher. — You know what the sails are for. 
The water does not make it go, it only retards it ; 
the wind must push harder on its sails than the 
water against its hull, or it will stand still, unless 
it gets into a current of moving water, when it will 
move with the tide. There are hundreds of ways 
in which the pushing force of water is used ; 
wheels of factories are turned, and all sorts of 
contrivances and inventions are used to make the 
most of it, to get all the advantages possible from 



128 //()//' SI/A I. L MY CHILD BE TAUCIIT? 

it. But liore is soniothini;" else. This towel has 
one end only in the water ; this sponj;e toiiehes 
the wet table onl\' on its under side ; does all the 
rest of it remain dr)-.'* 

Class. — Oh, no; the sponge is wet all over 
now, and the towel is growing- wet. 

Teacher. — The other morning- I found the floor 
near my sink was quite wet, and then I diseovered 
the towel thrown over with one end in the basin 
where there was some water, and the other end 
dripping- over th5 edge of the sink. How was that } 

Ti'ddv. — Ihe towel and the sponge suck up 
the water. 

Teacher. — The water climbs by little threads, 
or through little holes or tubes ; it creeps up the 
sides, and fills the pores of the si-)onge, the web of 
the cloth, the cells of the plants and trees, in 
which the sap rises and oozes through the thin 
membranes. It climbs up a chain, too, in the 
same way ; sometimes very fast. 

Mado'c. — I know it docs in our chain-pump. I 
draw the chain up, ami soon the water comes so 
fast that it comes out of the spout, and I hold my 
face over and drink. 

Teacher. — Now, you can often get this climbing. 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. I 29 

force of the water, its disposition to fc^llovv a fine 
thread or tube, its capillary attraction as it is 
called, to help do something; important. Keep 
it in mind, — you may want to use it. If you 
were very thirsty, and saw a deep well but nothing 
to draw with, could you contrive some way to get 
a drink ? 

Lily. — I could. I'd tear my dress up and make 
a long string, and suck up some water out of it 
when one end was down in the well. 

Teacher. — I^efore the next lesson, I want you 
to think of some other forces of water, and how 
they are used. Periiaps you can discover or invent 
something. 

Holly. — Do you believe we can '^. 

TeacJier. — I have no doubt you can, if you 
watch and think. Most likely it will be some- 
thing that has been discovered or invented by 
somebody else, but that is no matter. It is just as 
good for you to find it out yourself, as if no one 
else had done it. 

IV. 

Teacher. — If you wish to move your arm, Holly, 
how do you do it ? 



130 HOW SHALL A/y CIILLD BE TAUGHT? 

Holly — I make myself. 

Maggie. — You told us in Physiology that the 
will is carried from the brain to the muscles bv 
the nerves, which contract the muscles, so that the 
arm moves ; it goes by a sort of telegraph, so 
quickly that we don't know any more than 
that when we want our arms to move, they 
move. 

TeacJicr. — You have learned to control the force 
there is in your arm ; you didn't know how, when 
you were a little baby, and had to learn by trying. 
I saw a child as large as you, Holly, that hadn't 
learned, because his mind was too foolish, and he 
couldn't manage his arms or legs at all ; he lay on 
a cushion like a little baby, only because he had 
not the sense to learn to use the force of his own 
muscles. Can you control any other muscles be- 
sides your own, Prescott 1 If you have a load to 
draw which is too heavy for you to pull, what can 
you do } 

Prescott. — I can get a horse to pull it. 

Edith. — Or an ox. 

Dolly. — Or my dog; he carries a basket, cr 
draws my sled. 

Teacher. — Of what advanta^re is it to make the 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. I3I 

horse and the wheel do it ? Could not a man use 
the saw and cut the wood with the force of his 
own muscle ? 

Dolly. — Yes; but the horse is stronger, and 
can do it a sfreat deal faster with the wheel. I 

o 

saw a horse going round and round in the street, 
the other day, and winding a rope about an axle 
so as to pull a house along. 

Caii'ie. — I saw, down "on the wharf, a horse go- 
ing forward and back, to hoist a box of coal and 
lower the empty box. 

Teacher. — Did you ever see a dog's muscle 
used to do work .'' Dolly uses her dog. 

Gertrude. — When I was in New York with 
mamma, I used to see the dog-carts go round every 
mornino: to o'et rubbish. 

Teacher. — Once people used to roast meat be- 
fore the fire ; they had to keep it turning all the 
time. It was tiresome for a boy or woman, so they 
trained dogs to be turnspits. 

Maggie. — How funny ! I have seen a bird 
trained to lift its food into the cage with a string, 
and a monkey to fire a gun. 

Lily. — In the cold countries, the reindeer draws 
the sledge. 



13- now SUM L MY C/n/n />•/•; TAUCIfT? 

Sylvia. — In Si)uth America, the l)c;uiliful littlc 
llamas carry the loatls down the nunmlains. 

. Holly. — In llic hot ciumtrics, tlicy use elephants 
to carry loads. 

Pirscott. — In the desert, camels. 

Teacher. — Can man c(Mitrol all these ani- 
mals, ami make them do his \v\)rk, \vitluuit 
trt)uble } 

Holly. — No'm ; they have to be trained. 

Prcscott. — They have hanl work to train them, 
too, and they have to tame them tirst. 

Teacher. — Do vou think man will ever have un- 
der his control all animals, — the wild aninials, — 
so that thev will do his woik } 

Maggie. — rerhai>s so. Do you think so } 

Teacher. — I think it possible in the future; 
for man is made as the head and kini;- of all the 
forces of the earth, to control and subdue them. 
lie lias to learn to make the most of his (^\\w 
forces by trainini;- his bodv and mind, and then 
he can add to this power of his own the j^ower of 
other animals which he tames and trains ; because 
God made man to have dominicMi over all creatures 
of the earth, to do his bidding. 



PRIMARY CLASS IN I'l/VSICS. 133 

V. 

7\'aclicr. — Prcscf^tt, sec how the gutters run 
to-day ; the snow is thawing fast. JJo you think 
of any work ycni can make that swift stream do ? 

Prescotl. — I see it pusli a good deal of slush 
along itself; it is doing its own work. 

I'J/icl. — Oil, Mrs. Hopkins, don't you remem- 
ber all that you read to us out of the J'\iiry Land 
of Science, about tlie water and ice and snow ? 
They do wonderful things that men cannot do. 

Teacher. — That is true, but they will at the 
same time stop and do a little job for us. If 
Holly slunild ])ut a little wheel out there, would 
the gutter stream turn it for him } 

Holly. — I guess it would. I should stick the 
wheel up in lumi)s of snow so that it would just 
dip into the gutter, and the stream would turn it 
quick enough. 

Teacher. — Suppose it didn't turn as fast as you 
wanted it to } 

Prescotl. — We could make a dam and a water- 
fall, and then it would go rushing. 

Teacher. — A great deal of work is done in this 
way, by using the force of running or falling 



134 Noir SHALL my cl/lll:> bl: taught? 

water to turn wheels. I have seen an immense 
wheel turned by water, falling over a great dam, 
built in the Merrimac River, and this wheel by 
belts turned a great many wheels and spindles in 
a large cotton factory. Ethel, do you remember 
the windmills on the road to Nonquitt. 

EiJicl. — Oh, yes ; those great sails are turned 
by the wind and pump the water up to the top of 
the high frame, so that it will trickle down 
through all the branches laid upon the frames 
below and leave salt upon them. Mamma ex- 
plained it to me one day. 

EditJi. — I can make a windmill myself. 

TeacJur. — So you can ; but you must try and 
see if you can make it do any work. You want to 
use the force of the wind. What a tremendous 
force it has ; and the force of the air as you push 
against it is very great to resist you. You must 
think how you can use its power to resist, as well 
as its power to move. Air and water hold great 
forces, which man must learn to control. He 
must first find out how they will act, and then 
how to use them. The force of the earth drawing- 
all things to itself is another force we can use. 
Suppose two boys are throwing snowballs. One 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. I 35 

boy stands on a level with the mark he aims at, 
but the other goes up on a high place and throws 
them down ; which is the wiser boy ? 

Dolly. — The boy who went up high, for it is 
easier to throw down. 

Teacher. — Yes, that boy got the earth to help 
him. It is the force of gravitation. A man by 
the name of Isaac Newton first watched an apple 
falling from a tree and thought about it until he 
understood that the earth draws all things toward 
itself. This explained a great many things, and 
led to other discoveries. The earth has many 
forces. We have only begun to find them out. 
They are waiting like restive horses in their 
stalls for man to bring out and use. Perhaps you 
can discover some of them. All is done by ob- 
serving and thinking, watching, trying and con- 
triving. 

The brain of man is given to him by God to use 
that he may be the master of the earth, that he 
may make the air, the earth and the water, and 
even the sun, moon and stars, work for him. 



CHAPTER XL 

PRIMARY CLASS IN PIlYSIOLOr.Y. 
I. 

AftI'.r an exercise in calistlicnics, the six 
youn<^cst pujiils remain standing". 

l\iiicJu'r. — What nice twisting Ixxlies you have, 
just like inclia-rul)l)er ! Is lliat wliat you are made 
of ? 

All (laui;hin<;-). — No ; we're made of flesh. 

l\'aclicr. — How do you keep up straight, then ? 

l^rcscott. — Wc have hones. 

TcacJur. — Any hones like tliis (showing a fish- 
spine) ? 

Holly. — No ; I guess not. 

Teacher.- — When you undress to-night, feel U]) 
and down your hack, and tell what you feel. You 
may feel of each other now, gently. Madge, what 
do you feel on Lily's haek 1 

Mad^^c. — Knohs, all in a row. 

Lily. — So do J, on Madge's back. 
136 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PIIVS/OLOCY. 137 

Holly. — It ;j,'r)cs nil iij) aiul down my back. 

Teacher, — You may as well call it your ?jack- 
bonc. It is somcthiri':^ like this of a fish. 

J^rcscoti. — What makes the knobs? 

I'caclicr. — Loolc at this. Is it one bone ? 

Lily. — No ; it is a i^oorl many little ones. 

Teacher. — You can count the knol)s on your 
back to-ni^ht. \'ou shr)uhl find twenty-five. ICach 
is a little bone with jjoints stickin;^ out around 
it, and a hole in the middle, throu;(h which a soft 
cord runs. So your backljone is really twenty- 
four small bones, like beads strun;; on a string, 
and each has hcjoks wiLh which it hohls on to the 
other, as they are all cauc^ht tf);.jether. (Show a 
vertebra.) Now all benrl over, anrl then back, very 
far and fast, back and forth, back anrl forth. Do 
you hear .all those little bones rattle or crack as 
they move, and tlie corrl strain .^ 

All. — Nfj, no; they don't make a bit of noise. 

Teacher. — Isn't that funny .■* One would tln'nk 
they wouM all ^o creak, creak. If they did, what 
should \ou tliink would cure it .-^ 

Lotlie. — I should think they would be oiled. 

Prc^cott. — ! should put somethin;^ soft between 
them. 



138 HO IV SHALL MY CLILLD BE TAUGLIT? 

Teddy. — How is it fixed ? 

Teacher. — Why, God thought just as you do, 
and lie put little soft cushions between them, and 
little bags of oil to squeeze against them, so that 
they do not rub and grate on each other. 

Girls. — How good ! (Boys look serious.) 

Teacher. — What keeps you so firm and round, 
Prescott ? See, when I clasp my hands on your 
sides and about your chest, I can't squeeze it in 
like a rubber doll. 

Holly. — But you can down here. 

Madge. — There are bones up here, and not 
down below. 

Teacher. — Now feel of yourselves, all nnder 
your arms down to your waist. Do you feel the 
bones .-* 

Lily. — I feel bars going in a ring just like 
hoops. 

Holly. — So do I. 

TeacJier. — Now feel in front. Do you feel the 
bars there } 

All. — No; it is flat and hard. 

Teacher. — One flat bone in front, and hoops on 
each side. I brought these old bones to show you ; 
they are the bones around a horse's chest, a good 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 1 39 

deal like yours. I found them out in that old field 
by Cedar Street. They were joined to a back- 
bone, also, at these ends. These bars are a part of 
the little bones of the backbone, reaching around 
the chest to this flat bone, — the breastbone. So 
your chest is all framed in, isn't it, Lily.? Here 
is a picture of it. Some of these bones are a little 
soft near the breastbone : and in you the breast- 
bone is not very hard, but it will grow harder. 
These bones that hoop around are called ribs. 
The other day Mr. Bliss fell from the roof of a 
house, and broke two of these ribs. He has to be 
very still while they mend themselves, and it will 
hurt him a good deal. If more of them had 
broken it might have killed him, for the parts of 
the body within the chest cannot bear to be hurt 
without killing us. 

Madge. — Jennie broke a bone in her leg, the 
other day, and the doctor tied her leg up in pieces 
of wood, and she has got to lie in bed three weeks. 

Teacher. — Feel of your heads. Squeeze them. 
Are they hard .? 

^//- — Yes, very hard ; it is all bone. 

TeacJier. — The bone of your head is called the 
skull. It is pieced together in little jagged seams 



I40 I/Oir SHAI.J. MY CHJI.D BE TAUCIIT? 

in these places, — here, and here, and here. It ir> 
a very good way to join bones together so that 
they won't come apart, and so that if you hit one 
part it won't jar the other parts as much. The 
cushions in your backbone save a great deal of jar, 
too. Just think how it would hurt you to knock 
the end of your backbone, if that and the skull 
were one solid bone. I guess it would make your 
head ache. 



11. 

TcacJicr. — You all examined your bodies last 
night, you say, to find out what bones make its 
frame-work. Tell me, Prescott, what you found 
out about your chest. See, when I feel of Pres- 
cott about here [the chest], he isn't soft, like a 
rag-baby, and I cannot punch him like a rubber 
doll. All feel of your chests. 

Prescott. — There is a bone in front, and some 
hoops around here under my arms. 

TcacJicr. — Just like this [illustration by draw- 
ing a model] ; these lioops join the bone in front, 
the breastbone, and the backbone behind. See, 
are they separate from the backbone } 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. H^ 

lily, — No, they are paits of the little, spine- 
bones. 

7>^rr//6'r. — They are the arms of the small bones 
stretched out to embrace you, and give you a place 
for your breath to come and go, and for your heart 
to beat. They are joined to the breastbone by 
little pieces of gristle, like white india-rubber. 
You have seen it in meat. Here are some below, 
which are more loosely hung, so that they can 
spread when the breath is very full. This breast- 
bone may be partly gristle in some of you ; it will 
crrow into firm bone by and by. The breastbone, 
the spine, and the ribs make a nice room for some 
very important parts of your body. Take a good 
long breath, with your hands each side of your 
breastbone. Do you feel the ribs push out .=* 

Madge. — Y^^\'i\ and I feel something push 
down and swell out in front. Is that a bone 1 

Teacher.— AW breathe slowly, a strong, full 
breath. Do you feel it as Madge says ? Well, 
there is a strong wall there below to this room, 
full of the machinery which keeps us alive. That 
wall is not a bone ; it is called a muscle. It is a 
strong, elastic thing, which will stretch down and 
out as you need to have it. There is something 



142 HO IV SI/ ALL MY CHILD BL TAUGHT? 

else in this nicely protected room besides the 
breath ; feel on the left side among the ribs ; what 
do you feel ? 

Teddy. — I feel a hammer. I guess they're 
building the wall. 

Teaclier. — Can you stop the hammer.'* 

AIL — We cannot ; it goes right along. 

TtacJicr. — It is your heart beating; it will 
never stop until you die. It goes like this [imitat- 
ing the contractions with the hand], and drives 
the blood all through your veins ; it keeps you 
alive, and makes you grow ; it is like a hammer, 
building the walls ; or like a clock, measuring off 
the seconds of your life ; or like a drum, beating 
to call you to do what you have to do. It makes 
your pulse beat ; put your finger here on your 
w^rist, and feel the little hammer there. 

Lottie. — That's where the doctor feels my 
pulse. 

TcacJicr. — To see how your heart is beating, or 
how regularly and truly all the machinery is going. 
There is something else in the chest, too, to be 
taken good care of within the framework of bones 
about it. It is your stomach, which takes in all 
you eat, and changes it so that it can be made into 



PRIMARY CLASS IX PUVSIOLOGY. 1 43 

blood. The breath goes in and out of the wind- 
pipe and the lungs ; the blood goes through the 
heart, and the food into the stomach : and all 
these are within the chest, surrounded and pro- 
tected by spine, breastbone, and ribs. Now, stand 
very erect, and breathe as I move my hand, very 
strongly, and feel your ribs. Shall I tell you 
the names by which these little bones and the 
breastbone, also the muscle below the chest, are 
called ? The whole backbone, made of twenty- 
four of these little knobby bones which link to- 
gether, is the spine ; each little bone of the spine 
is a vertebra ; the breastbone is the sternum ; the 
muscle is the diaphragm. To-morrow we will see 
about the bones of the arms and degs, hands and 
feet ; and about the joints, or how the bones move 
upon each other. 

Ethel. — The bones you show us are very dry 
and rough. Is that like our bones .'' 

TeacJier. — No ; they are old and dried in the 
sun and weather ; all the oil is dried out of them, 
and they are brittle. Your bones are softer and 
smoother, and more elastic ; they will grow harder 
and more dry and brittle when you are old. What 
are they at all like ? 



144 J/OJr SHALL MY CHILD 1< F. TArCUTf 

Teddy. — SoniothinL; like chalk. 

Teacher. — Vos. aiul thov <//v like chalk ; thcv arc 
made of linio voi\' lari;cly. lla\o m>u an\- oppor- 
tiinit\- to look at \our own bones, to soo whether 
they are like this ? 

EtfuL — 1 hojK^ not : not unless we cut our 
tlesh. 

1 eaeJier. — Preseott e.inie in from recess \ ester- 
day, with cMie of his bones in his hand. 

Prescott. — 0\\, my old tooth! I threw it away. 

J/dt/i^e. — Are our teeth bones ? 

Teacher. — Well, what C\o yow think? 

A//. — Oh. yes. thev are. 

Lily. — Hut the\- are \er\ snu^oth. 

Teac/icr. — rhe\- are ihessed uj> a little to slnnv, 
with a nice, hard polish lui the outside, called the 
cfuufie/y which prefects the bone. 



111. 



Teacher. — As you i^o thrcnii;h \ouv calisthenics 
I cannot helj^ thinkini; how easih' and rapidh Nini 
can bend \our arms. \our wrists. \ouv tinkers, ^■our 
knees and ankles. 1 low is that. ]Madue ? will yoar 
bones bend an\ where ? 



J'KIMAKY CLASS /\ ru VSJO/.oC V. '45 

Madge. — No, iMj ; my arms will hcii'l only at 
the* elbows. 

1 itidicr. — I low <lo you whirl your arm arounrl 
like a wheel, in this movement, then ? 

Madi^c. — Oh, it moves at the shoulder, too. 

Holly. — And at the wrist and lin-ers, in two or 
three places. 

'J'caclirr. — ^i'liesc; places are the joints. Nr)W, 
all try your shoulder-joints ; can you move them 
up or down, or backward anrl forward ? 

Prcscoll. — 1 c;in move them up and d<jwn, back 
and forth, ;i,nd round and round. 

'J\'(iilicr. — 'i'he joint is lik(.' a ball in a cup, in 
which it (Mu turn almost every way. 'Ihe end of 
the arm bone is a ball of bone c(jvered wdth the 
smootli, elastic skin called cartila^^e, as all the 
joints ai"e, ainl the shoulder is fitted to;^etlier to 
form a cup, in which the ball is held by firm elas- 
tic cords so that it will not slip out, but can tiu'n 
in any direction. J I(jvv convenient it is to swin;^ 
the arm when you throw, and how important this 
free movement for the use of the wIkjIc arm ! 

/lull)'. — What are these b(;nes at the shoulder .'* 

Teaclwr. — There is a lar^^e thrcc-sidcd bone 
from the back, called the sh(juldc:rd)lade. You can 



i4^> //<>//' SUM I Mv ciiii n /.•/•; i'.n\:iiTf 



SCO il plaiiil)' ;is \(Ui jnish l);u"k ihc arm at tlic 
sliDuKliM-. 'lluMi' is a hoiu* plaiiiK' seen also on 
the lionl ol the iu\k, called the eollar-lione. These 
two ])oiK\s join at the shoulder, ant! tluar unitc>d 
iHl,i;es lorni the enp. Th.e collar hone is lastcaied 
lo the hreast hone, ami the shouldei -hlade to the 
iKiekhone. C'an n'ou all ieid these hones plainly ? 

-•///. — \\\s, \'ei\' ]>lainlv. 

Tiiltiy. — Stan broke his eollar-bone one day, 
and it mended with a eraek in it. 

I\iU-//i-r. — It ouj;ht to lun-e mended belter than 
that. Wasn't it well fitted together? 

J\/(io-i^it\ — Well, l\Irs. 11., he tried to kiek foot- 
ball lu^iore il was cpiite well, and lu' lell down and 
bioke it aL;ain. 

Iciuhi-r. — lie t)U!j,ht to ha\'e ki^pt still until 
it was Inndv knit toL;ether. Pmt it isn't a \ery 
severe thin;; to break the eollai-bone ; not at all 
like breakini; owe ot the lari;e bones. \ o\\ see 
jiow small it is. Now all see how many wa)'s you 
can move the elbow. 

Lottie. — C)nl\' up and down. 

'J'iih'//iT. — What kind ol a jcunt will move onl\' 
one wav ? I'lv the door. What is thai which 
makes il swiuLi back and lorth '^ 



/'/s /.]/.! h-)- ('/,Ass /x ri/vs/oLocY. 147 

rrcscoll — IL is cL liiii;^c. Is LIkiL the vviiy oiii" 
cl])ows arc made ? 

'readier. — Yes; very much. The elbow and 
fiiij^^ers liavc hin,i;e-joiiits. iVfakc them all j^o. 
You know we have- to oil liin;^es occasionally, so 
our joints are constantly oiled frf)ni little bags 
near them, which s(|uee/e out oil when the joint 
works. What other joint in your body is a hinge- 
joint ? 

Carrie. — My knee, I third<. 

Teacher. — Does youi" knee fc:t;] like your ell)r)W.'* 

Madj^e. — No; my knee is fiat and my elbow 
pointed. 

TeacJier. — The joint of the knee is covered by 
a little flat i)one to ])rotect it ; the bone is the 
knee-pan. You can make it knock against the 
point by striking it, and it sounds like money. 
Try it. 

J^rescott. — I can make you think I have money 
in my hand. 

Teacher. — So the knee is a hinge-joint. How 
many ways do you find it to woik } 

Teddy. — It goes ui) and down. 

Teacher. — Now try your toes. Can you move 
them like fingers .'* 



14*"^ now SUM I MY cim i^ />/■: /'.u'ci/y? 



J'j/it/. -' 0\\\\ A lilllr; ImiI wluMi in\' loot is 
hare 1 can (\o il pn-n \- w ell. 

C(irrii\ — \\\\h\ mows Ikm's all loiiiul ami sticks 
t luMu all apart. 

DiJilitT. — 1 luMicI of a man wlio conlil sew and 
knit with liis toes, and o\ one who eould pki\' on 
the piano with his. 

jVdi/i^r. — Why eonUl he? 

TcacJicr. — lie had juaetiseil it a i;-ood (V-a\, be- 
t\uise he had no arms. II we praelisc^l moxini;' 
our toes we eouKI kV'' nuieh moii^ with them than 
we tliiid-v. .\n\- joint or otiiei" pait ol the bod\' 
will work more lVeel\- h\- exereisin^; il. W'hatex'er 
we ti\' to make the biHl\' k\o, it will eome to do 
in time ; it will obe\ onr will if we train it. Now 
tr\' \our wiisls and ankles. Ah)\e them every 
wa)- you can. 

Allies. — Wdu', the\- will «;■(> an\' way \'ou U\. 

liiuJur. — ThcN' are (piite ditlerent trom the 
other ji)ints. '!^d^e (^tl \ann" I'ound i;'old beatls, 
(lertrnde, antl the\- will ndl k^w each olhei" an\- 
wa\' : I jHit them in two rows and see how thcN' 
may turn about Tlu^ wrist and ankle hax'c two 
rows of little bones, four in a row, upon which the 
hauil tnins; the mo\ement is easier and more 



I'KIM.IKV (l.ASS l.\ rHYSIOI.OdV. \/\() 

v;iricMl tli;m Liu- bull .iiid cui]) joints. VVluMi Loiiic 
plays on llu' piano sec how many \va)'s and how 
(juickly she can throw, tnin, or twist tlu- hand. 
It is the smooth rows ol little hoiu-s that do it. 
It is much vv()i"sc to l)reak the wiist or ;inkle than 
the collar-bone, and takes a Ion- tinu- to heal the 
bfcak and make the joint stioni; a_L;ain. 

Ma^i^ic. — Yes ; it is a yeai- since mamma broke 
her ankle, and it isn't strong" yet. 

'J\'iU'lu'r. — He very careful of the ankle and 
wrist — and of the knee, too. When tluise joints 
are liurt, some trouble is ai)t to ocean", because; 
they are haidei' to reach than some of the otlu'i* 
joints. The socket at the hip is formt'd by the 
nieetin<;' of two stron^i;- lar^^e bones which support 
the body. Your backbone is like many hin<;e- 
joints ; your shouhUas and hips are l)all and 
socket joints ; your elbows and knees, as well as 
the joints of your lin;j,('rs and toes, are hin^e- 
joints, and your wrists and ankles are j'ollinjj^ 
joints. Now can you all repeat this.'' 

All repeat it correctly, ;ind then all the class 
ai'c allowed to try moving; as many of their joints 
at once and as rapidly as they can, which cauls the 
lesson. 



iSi> //(>//■ A7/.///. .1/) cnii.n IU-: rM'ciii't' 



TV. 



'I'lii' ol.iss .shouM hr iillowrd tn si'(^ ;i in;iiiikin 
(liiiin:; ihr sliul\ ol tlir l)()nrs, ,uul hr Ird lo ol)- 
scrv\" .ill IIk' l)i)iu"s .iiul joinls i-.iirliill\. 

'/t'(U'/trr. — W'r h.i\i" KMinril wh.il llu- li.iim' 
wiuk ol Ihr l>(>il\' is, ami lh>\v its ditliMi'nl pails aio 
jiuiud t(\!',rtlua lor oui roiuaMruMui'. 1 )o )t)U 
t liiiik il like" A\\\ olluM skrK'ton ? 

l\ti\iv. - Il is iiKulr sDiiuM liin;-, likr a monki'v's. 

/'/<Stt>//. — Il is likr animals, a j'.ooii iUmI. 

/tiu/it'r. — Si) il is, lull il slamls iipi ii'.ht , ami 
has Iwoaims iiisU\ul i>l Iwo toirK":;s. NrxiMliu'- 
Irss, il is i>n llu- samr i>lan as ihal ol all tom- 
h>i)U"tl animals; \i>ii ran rasilv srr [\w likiMioss 
aihl llu" Jiitruiui'. riir k>n;', rliain ol bonrs in 
llu' bark, thr spino, is \\w sanu\ ami ;;i\rs a name 
lo all animals llial ha\'o il ; ihow with man, arc 
ralU-il llu" r<'//('/i/ti/<s, liom llu> naim- ol cacIx lilllo 
bono ol 1 ho spintN ■.-'(VA ■/'/</. i^l.ol iho olass nanu' 
a \aiiolv oi \ oi lohralos.) Is this liamcwoik ol 
bonos insiilo oi onlsiilo ol us ? 

.///.- Insido. 

/'iiu//<r. Aw \o\[ i\ot ;;kul ihal it is olothoil. 



I'h'lMAh'V CLASS /N rilVSlOl.OCY. I.SI 

.'Hid ni;i(l(; l)(,-;iiit il ill vvilli ll(!:,Ii ;iii(| skin ? Wli;iL is 
the flesh ? 

Madge. — Tl; is Ihc prirt. thnl lias Moorl in il. 

Prcscott. — It is tin; ji.'irl vv(; cal in animals, — 
the meat, 

li'<l(fy. — Il is Ihc thick part aroiiii'l the hones, 

'J\'(uliir. - Voii .ij-e ((II \\';\\\. At rtteess 1 will 
take; yon over to the meat-market, :in<l show yon 
how it is vvoiind al)r)ut the l^ones aixl lies elose to 
them, with a thin skin nround it whieli twists into 
strong cords at the ends, and fastens thc! flc^sh 
ti<^Iitly at till- joints. What are the eor(Ks and the 
flesh for, do yon 1 hink .'* 

Lotlir. — Jo cover th(.' bones. 

'J'cdclici'. — j)id yon ever tak(! a chi( k(;n le^-; from 
tlu; kitchen, and pull the end <A a ton^h white 
cord, showiii;^; just where the joint was cait ? 

I'Jiiil. I have, and il piilh-d up the claws, and 
acted just like walkin^;. 

'reaclicr. — The cords at tlie ends of the muscles 
do the same thin;; ; they move all yoiii" jijints, jjiill 
tlu; hones this way or that, as you wish. 'I'he 
muscle, — that is, the llcsli which is wrapj;ed ahout 
the hones, — is shortened, and brings up tlu; cords 
to pull the horu.'S ; I (annot fully understand it, 



15- J/oir siiAi.i. MY ciiii.n i<i-: rAi'cirr? 

Init when you wisli )'()iir www lo (.-onic this way, 
your muscle knows it, and sliorlcns lo })ull uj) tlic 
arm ; it is as if )'()ur mind up Iumc in the ])rain 
sent a telei^rapliic desi)ateli to the musele to pull 
up the arm, and it did so. (lod nntlerstands it, 
who made it. There are little fine threads goinn^ 
fiom the spinal eord whieh joins the brain, and 
these threads ai'e like the tek\<;raphie wires; they 
earry the messai;e of the thoui;ht and will, and are 
called nerves. 

Ai:;iics. — J never heard of anythin^i;- so nice as 
that ! 

Tcaclicr. — You didn't know you had a thousand 
tclegraphie wires in )'ou ; hut these little nerves 
oo to every spot in your body ; if you priek any 
part with the hnest needle, the message goes by 
the little line nerve that reaches that spot, all the 
way to the spinal eord and to the brain, to tell 
your thought where it is, and you can tell at once, 
without having seen, where it is. Suppose it were 
not so, lunv often we might be hurt without know- 
ing how or where, and peihai)s we might even be 
killed without a chance to i)revent the fatal effect 
of some little wouml. 

Willie. — ! fell something hurting my hand, the 



/'/a MARY CLASS IN /'// vs/o/jx; V. I 53 

(jthcr (lay, and looked, and found a piece of a 
needle almost hid in the flesh by \\\y thumb, and 
my father ^ot some pincers arifl pulled it out. 

Teacher. — These little nerves tell the muscle 
what to do, and then the muscle shortens or 
lengthens and does it. All draw your arm up and 
forward from the ell)ovv ; shut your hand tight, and 
feel of the muscle. Can you feel it } 

Madge. — Papa laughs at my muscle ; his is just 
as hard as iron when he does this, and bunches 
right out. 

Prescott. — I can show my muscle ; it is hard, 
too. 

TeacJier. — See how firm your muscle is on the 
lower part of the leg, the calf of your leg. That 
is large and strong, because you use it so much, 
jumping, running, skating, and walking. The 
muscles grow round and firm by using. They 
are all over you. Did you see the men at the 
circus, who leaped so well and performed on horse- 
back ? Their muscles were all well developed, and 
looked as they ought to look, and made the whole 
body very handsome and graceful, and agile and 
strong. You must exercise all the muscles, to 
make your body grow as it was meant to grow. 



'54 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

There are great bands of flesh or muscle across 
the chest, and they ought to be strong and make 
the chest round, the body erect, and bring the 
shoulders back. Stand up as you think you ought 
to look. Now take a good, long breath. If your 
chest-muscles are strong, you can breathe better ; 
and you remember I told you about a strong mus- 
cle which separates the chest from the lower part 
of the body ; that is the diaphragm, — and when 
you breathe it swells out and draws in, and moves 
up and down. Do you feel it } 

AIL — I feel it. 

Teachei\ — When you use the muscles, the 
blood rushes quicker into the little veins, the 
blood-vessels, which are just like a fine net-work 
all over the body and through all the muscles. 
The blood keeps the muscles warm and alive, for 
it carries something to them to build them all the 
time, as they waste from using, and it carries back 
the wasted parts, which would decay and corrupt 
the body otherwise, and that is just what happens 
when a creature dies — the flesh decays ; you all 
know this. We will go and see the flesh at 
recess, and I will show you how it lies about the 
bones and is tied to the joints, and you can think 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 155 

that it is very much the same as your flesh, which 
is so much of your body and does so much of your 
work. 

V. 

Teacher. — Madge, we went over the rope-works, 
yesterday, to see the machinery. What room did 
you think contained the most important part of 
it all ? 

Madge. — The room where the engine was, for 
that keeps it all going. 

Teacher. — True ; and if the engine is taken 
good care of, and kept going just right, every 
wheel will do its work and all will go on as it 
should ; but if the engineer neglects his duty, or 
has not the skill to manage the engine, some bad 
accident or disorder might result. How nice the 
engine was ! and the room was quite clean, and 
the men there were busy and attending to their 
work. Now, all put your hands on your heads. 
Your head is your engine-room ; in it is the 
engine — the brain. How solid the walls of the 
room are ! Where are the doors, and windows, 
and the belts which go to turn all the wheels, and 
keep your whole body-factory at work } 



15^^ //('//■ SUM I. .]/)• cini.n /.v-; lArcirn 

F.stlwr. — riio c)cs arc the wiiulows. 

rnscott. — So arc the oars. 

lidi/iir. — 'rhroiii;h liio eve aiul I bo car come 
to tlic brain llic bL;bl and souiul ol" wbal is cnilsiJc 
tbc boilv ; tbr(UiL;b tbc nostrils and ti)ni;"uc, tbc 
smell and lastc ; lbroui;b tbc skin, tbc fcclini;-. 
v\ll tbcsc arc called tbc " senses." (I'Jilar^c upon 
tbese ^/r/ //Y'/////;/.) Hut bow does tbc brain cimi- 
municate witb tbc rest o\ tbc bmlv ? llow docs it 
get news ol" any burt or an\- i;\>od to tbc rest of its 
body, ov send any messaL;e to otber jnirts of tbc 
bod\', sneb as a mcssai;c to tbc arm to nioyo, or to 
tbc feet to walk? 

Lotfir. — \'ou told us ibcre were a tbousand 
tclcgTapbs to eair\- messaL;es back and fortb all 
oyer tlie body. 

ri(h//i'r. — \'es, tbcsc arc tbc ner\"es. Tbc 
brain and tbc spinal ci^ixl. ami tbc nciN'cs arc all 
one, like a \'oo{ and stem ami brancbes. All 
t0i;"ctbcr tbc\' luakc up tbc nei\-ous s)stcm. I 
\ycnt into a Sur>;ieal Museum once, and in a L;lass 
case T saw an exact rcprcsentaticui oi tbc neryous 
system ol a man b\- ilseU, separate^l Iroiu all otber 
parts ot tbc bod\', as il it bad been drawn out and 
bum;" on a \\ook by>tbe brain ; dmvn Iroiu tbc base 



/ 'A' IMA A' Y ( 'I. A SS /, V / 7/ WS/O/aX / \ ' '57 

of the brain behind hun^" the spinal coid, and Iroin 
it hun<;- the prineipal nerves of the aims and lei;s, 
with all the hundreds of little thread nerves i un- 
nin<^- from every i)art of it. It was a eurious look- 
ing; thing. 

Ti'iidy. — What color was it ? 

Teacher. -- If you eould look inside; your skull, 
your engine-room, you would hnd it packed (|uite 
close with soft gray coils an<l bunches. 'Idiis gray 
mass is the brain ; it pushes its substance down 
through all those little holes in the si)ine, — the 
middle of the vertebra;, you remember, — and 
sends out threads all over the body fiom between 
these little bones. The brain is the tool of the 
mind. 

Jitlicl. — I thought the brain is the mind. 

Teacher. —When your body dies, the brain will 
die, too. You could see a dead brain, of no more 
use; but the mind is still alive, and T am sure 
must have a better tool or machine than the brain, 
although that is better and nicer than any made 
by man. Does this machine or engine ever get 
out of order ">. 

Maggie. — When a man is crazy, is it out of 
order } 



15^"^ //(>//■ S//AL/. MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

Trac/iir. — Vcs, aiul ilo \oii not think lh>U is 
almost the worst thin^;" that oouUl hapjuMi to us. 
that our mind should be out ot order, as \vc sav, 
when the mind cannot control the brain? 

Jnrih'/. — Oh, yes ; for then we mii;ht kill our- 
selves or somebody else. 

Tfac/ur. — Sometimes the brain is hurt, ov siek, 
andi that is often tatal, — always yer\- hard to cure. 
If a man falls and eraeks his skull aiul knocks a 
piece ot it against the brain, or wcninds or in- 
tiames the brain ; or if he uses or excites the brain 
too much, so that it becomes too tired, it is a verN' 
serious matter, and \er\' hard to cure ; but if it 
is the connection between the mind and the brain 
that is affected, then it is callctl insanity, an^l the 
man is like a workman in rt factory whose eni;ine 
is all out of order, and nothiuL; can be relied 
upon ; his machiner)- may kill him, ant! e\er\thini;- 
may go contrary to the rule. Should \ou be 
careful of this engine .'' 

J^jYSLOtt. — Xcvy ; but how ? 

TcacJtcr. — \)i> what keeps the whole bmly 
healthful ; the brain is a jxirt of the both' ; also let 
the brain rest when it is tired. Let it work well 
and regularly when it works, and go to sleep when 



PRIMARY CLASS /A' /'// VS/OLOG V. 159 

it is tired. When it is too tired to work, sleep 
comes like a night-watchman and shuts up the 
doors and windows, and the engine stands still 
The mind lets it alone and it gets rested. You 
saw the rope-works' engine resting, and a man was 
oiling it and polishing it and getting it all in good 
order for work. That is what sleep does for the 
brain. 

Gertrude. — How does the brain work ? 

Teacher. — I don't know that I can tell you. 
There is, probably, some movement of a particular 
part of it for every kind of work. Now, try to 
remember something. A certain part of the brain 
moves now, and you remember. Now try to 
understand something hard ; another part of your 
brain works, and you understand. The action of 
any part of the brain strengthens that part, just 
as I explained that the exercise of a muscle 
strengthens that muscle. Make your mind do 
what is hard for it to do, and it will do that easier 
the next time ; so you improve different parts of 
the brain and cause it to grow. You can even 
change the shape of your head by a habit of exer- 
cise for some part of the brain not well developed 
or strong. If you haven't much decision, form a 



l6o I/Oir SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGLLT? 

habit of deciding questions certainly and posi- 
tively, and your head will gradually grow higher 
here. 

Carrie. — Oh, how fininy ! can I make xwy head 
different ? 

Teacher. — I do not promise that, but people 
who study much about it sa}' that the mind uses 
different parts of the brain for different kinds of 
work, and shapes the brain and skull so as to show 
what parts are most developed, and what kinds of 
work the brain can do best, and I am sure as exer- 
cise trains the muscles, so it does the brain. 
Your mind will become weak if you do not use it, 
just as your muscles would. The will is the con- 
trolling force of the body, and ,the mind is the 
power that uses the will. The mind ought to 
govern and use the brain perfectly, and that is 
what I am trying to train your minds to do. The 
mind can control not only the brain, but the 
whole body, much more than you think, and keep 
it well and make it work well. 

Note to Teachers. — This subject can be developed much 
more fully, even to youngest pujiils, and interests them very 
much. The organs of sense each form a lesson or more, and the 
distinction between the mind and the brain can be further dwelt 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. l6l 

upon, as they all understand how the brain may have an impres- 
sion of sight or hearing, while the mind is too much occupied to 
attend to it ; as a child absorbed in reading does not hear what is 
said, although the car must still carry the sound to the brain. 
They will then know that the mind is quite distinct from the 
brain, and the soul can live without this body. 



VI. 



THE SENSES. 

Teacher. — I told you about the brain, which I 
called the engine. Iwerything in the body has to 
be connected in some way with the brain ; all 
knowledge of the outside world, all means of 
reaching outside things, of doing or learning, must 
come in different ways to it. What ways do you 
think of, Sallie, by which you can learn about this 
flower } 

Sallie. — I can see it. 

Teddy, — I can smell it. 

Teacher. — How do you learn of the cricket, 
which we do not see, but which you know is near .? 

Prescott. — I hear it chirp. 

Teacher. — And if I tell you to shut your eyes 
and open your mouth, and put this into it, what 
is it ? 



i^>2 //(ur .S7/.I/ / 1/r ciiiin /.'/•; rAcn;//'/'/ 



A/Jiv. It is A L;rapc. 1 taste it. 

Ti'dr/irr. Once a little i;irl had the scarlet 
l"e\ei-, aihl il destioNeil her sii;ht, luMiiuL;, smell, 
and tastc\ and it seemed as il slu' eenld never 
ha\e an.\' \\a\' o\ knewini; er doim; tn enjoNini; 
an\thini;. Iler bod\' seemed like a elese-shut 
prisiMi tiM her mind. Hnt theie \\\is ene \va\' Kdt 
epen, and a. i^mul, wise man took ih.it \va\', and 
thronL;h it tani;ht hei- as nuieh as man\' a person 
leatns throuL;h ever\- sense oi ;i perleel ho(\\. 
She is hiL;hlv edneated nmv. and has li\ed .i hai>p\- 
and nselnl lile. What w.is th;it one \\.i\ lelt to 
her to lind (Mil abont ontside thin^^s? 

7\-(/(/j'. — She conld leel ol things. 

7](h//t'/: — Now n.nne all these ways Irom the 
brain to the ontside world. 

.///. — 1\) SCO, to he<ir, to smell, to taste, to 
tonch. 

JcacJicr. — These actixities are calleil the Si7/se\\\ 
\\ou\ a word meanini;' /e /(t/, becanse e\'ery act 
ol the senses is a toncli ol the or^an of sense 
ni>on what is bii)nL;ht ti> il. VUc c\c is tonehed 
b\' w;i\es o{ lii;ht, the eai' b\- waxes oi sonnil, 
tiie nostiil b\ peiinme, the t(Mii;ne b\- lla\-or. the 
skin b\' what is in cc^ntact with it. All these 



J'h'/MAh'Y CLASS IX /'// VS/OLOC V. iGt, 

parts /cW, and the brain takes knowledge of what 
is felt. Name the oro-az/s of sense. 

All. — The eye, the ear, the nose, the ton-uc, 
the skin. 

Teacher. ~ The fingers have a very delicate and 
wise sense of touch, although the whole surface of 
the body can observe in the same way. In using 
these senses we ought to take pleasure, as it is 
intended that every healthy action of the body 
should .give more or less pleasure ; but we must 
never take more enjoyment in the mere action of 
the senses than in the pu-pose for which they act. 
You should not eat for the mere pleasure of taste 
when you do not need food. You should never 
use an organ of sense until it is weary, or until 
you cannot at once stop using it when it has 
done your work. You must control your senses ; 
be their master, and not their slave. It is a sad 
thing when even a child cannot control his senses. 
He cannot be trusted to take care of himself. A 
man who is the slave of his senses is a brute, bad 
and degraded in character. The senses must 
always obey the reason and conscien( 
Ethel. ~ Where is your conscience 
Teacher. — That is a part of the soul. We 



ice. 



K'M J/Ol\- SJ/A/.L MY C///I n />'/•; /'AlUI/T? 

iMiinot \A.wc il. It tcMls us what wo oii>;ht to do 
or oiiL^hl not lo ilo. 1 1' wo i>bo\' il, it will ho 
faithful, auil i;iow uumo aiul uioio clear aud lio- 
oidod ; il uot, it hooouios uuoorlaiu. It is tho 
St->:Si- of //.■;• sou/, as roason is tho souso ot tho 
niiuil. Tho sousos ol all _L;row' u\oro dolioato as 
wo uso thoiu aui! ilo uot ahuso thoui. Wo uuist 
take i;ooil oaro ot tho (U-i;aus ol souso. Tho o\o, 
for example, is so ilolioato auil easily hurl : what 
})rotection has il ? 

Esthrr. — The e\ebrows haug oxer it, jusl like 
a poroh. 

Gertrude. — I have oftou tluuiL;hl the evoruls 
are like friui;ed ourlaius to oo\ or it. 'J"ho\ i^pou 
auil close so cpiiokh. bofoio \ ou oau thiuk ot il. 

TeacJur. — \'ou ha\o a lilllo fouutaiu ol salt 
water to wash it with. We will lake the eye for 
auolhor lesson. 



VII. 



TlIK EVE. 



TeaeJier. — I'^.aoh ^^{ \ ou look at \our noii;hbor's 
e\o stoadih'. Is the o\o llat or rouuJoil .^ it is 
rounded. \'os, il is a hall. \'ou uia\' ha\e seen 



/'A'/.i/.IA'V CLASS /N r // VS/OLOiJ Y. I 65 

■d fish's eye: it is snio(jl.li, h.-ud, ■A,\\i\ slippery. 

Ho yoii see .'i liltle iiiiirm in the middle, with 

your own face reflected in it? Y<;ii df>. 'j'hat 

mirror is a little, convex, transparent surface, like 

^dass, over the open enrj iA a tul)e that leads into 

a dark chandler, where iiiiy impression of your 

face is spread upon the walls as it is upon the 

jd)oto;;r;ij>her's plate, anr| that j^icture is carried 

by a \\^\y(i to the brain, which jjcrceives it and 

sees your face. So it is with all that is before 

the eye. 'Idiat black hole is called the ////z7, the 

glassdike surface over it the cornea. Do you see 

the blue, or ;,M-ay, or brown circle outside the pupil } 

'i'hat is the iris. It shows little muscles to diaw 

the ed;;es closer to;(ether and make the pupil 

lar^^er when it ;,m-ows darker so as to give room 

for more li;;ht to go into that dark chamber and 

make the picture clearer on the walls. What else 

do you see, Alice } 

Sallic. — 1 see the ])upil grow smaller and the 
ijlue part grow wider. 

Teacher. — There are some other circular mus- 
cles which draw the iris up over the puj^il like 
strings in a bag, when the light is too strong. 
\\(A\ your eyes around. Can yf)U .? 



l66 J/OW SJL4LL My CHILD BE TACGJ/Tt 

All. — Oh. \ OS ! ovorv w.iy. 

Teacher. — There arc iiuisclos kIiuI corJs hoUl- 
ii\^ tlio roiiiul ONoball in its socket, which can act 
like the coiJs and muscles in any part of the 
body and turn the oyc as w c will. Did vou over 
see a person cioss e\ed. or with e\es turned too 
much toward the nose? Si^methini; was wioui;- 
with some ^A the muscles, in that case. If \ani 
use your eves too much. \ou uku hurt these 
muscles ; if vou hold viuu" book too near. \ou will 
hurt the eyeball, making it i;row con\e.\. If \ou 
keep glancing- too rajMdh- from a ilistant to a 
near object. \ou will tire and weaken one k>\ these 
muscles and grow more and more near-sighted. 
Alwa\s heed the caution ^^{ tluKse who have had 
experience in troubles oi the e\es. for it is such a 
terrible thing to ha\e the e\es hurt or impaired 
by abuse. Hold your lu\ul up naturallv as \ou 
sit erect, and read with the book at just that 
distance where \ ou read easilv. Ho wo\ read or 
look with one e\e onl\-, but with two, as is de- 
signed for \ on. Hat he the e\es with fresh, cold 
water; ojumi them in water e\er\- dav ; rest them 
when the\- feel tired. If \ ou are at all near- 
sighted, practise looking at distant objects. V>k> 



PRIMARY CLASS RY PI/YS/0/XJGY. 1 6/ 

you see the little blood-vessels roil over the eye- 
ball ? 

AIL — We do. 

1 eacher. —V>cm\ touch the eyeball. See how 
hard the eyelid tries to prevent you. It is not 
meant to be touched. Never try to read or work 
by too dim a li;^ht, nor to look directly at a very 
bright light. Why do you have two eyes ? 
Prescott. — To see all round a thin^. 
Teacher. — If you look with one eye, a thing 
looks more flat ; with two eyes we see it from two 
different points at once. Look at this stereo- 
graph, — two pictures of one thing, — are they 
exactly alike ? 

Lottie. — This one has more of the house on 
this side of the picture. 

Teacher. — Do you all see that there is a very 
little more of one side in one picture, and of the 
other side in the other picture.' That is the 
difference between the thing we see with our 
two eyes. Try experiments, first with one eye 
and then with the other. You find you do see 
things a little more or less on one side, with 
either eye. So we get a truer view of the whole 
thing with both eyes at once. The ner\'e which 



i6S now SUM I MY ('im.n /.•/•; TArciir? 

i-;irrics Ihc |)ic-tiiri' to Ihr brain is the r'/Z/V iwrvc ; 
it has a l)iMiuh to c\u-li cn'c. TluTt' arc two little 
1 raiispaii'iit louses lor tin- rays ol lii;iit to pass 
through holoio tlio inipii'ssioii roaehos tlu' optio 
lUMNt'. Voii must loarn inoro about liL;lU, and 
how it \va\'os, boloro \»)U oan undorstand lull)' 
how the iniaL;o whic-h passes into the pupil 
through the i"on\o.\ lens o\er il, the cornea, 
reaches this ner\'c. 



Vlll. 



Till'. S1:NSI'. Ol" lll'.AKlNC.. 



l\-iulii)\ — The eai is a stran_<;e-lookin<;" part of 
the head, sonu^what likc> a little trunii)i>t attached 
to the side of the head. 

Carrir. --- It looks like a shell. 

Tttidy. — Does the opcnini; i^o \\[\y into the 
head } 

/)■(}( //(T. — No; N'ou would lind soinethiui; very 
soon which would stt)p the wa\' ; it would look 
like a little round white nuanhranc, as it is, like 
the i)archinent of a drum stix'tchcd ox'ci- tlK> open- 
\\vjL\ it is delicate and thin, about so wiilc ; it 



rh'/MAh'Y CLASS /N /'// vs/o/jx; V. 169 

(|iiiv(:is ()!• vil)r;it(;.s vvlu;u souikI strikes it, just like 
;L!iy stretched siiiTace ; it vihi'alcs with the souii'i- 
vvaves of nir, and that vihiation is carried throned) 
it to four httle bones wliich are in a,n oj)en 
chaml)er beliind it ; they carry it on tliroii^di a 
spiral passa^^e very niiich like the windin;^s of a 
snail-sliell, until it reaches the nerves, vvhicdi carry 
it to the brain ; when the brain receives the 
impression, or knows of the vibriition, son/id is the 
result. Why do you think the external ear is 
shaped so ciua(jusly ? 

lithcL — ■ To f(et all the sound it can. 

Teacher. — The vibrati(jns of the air, which are 
waves of sound, are gathered up in the expanse of 
the outward ear and transmitted gradually thrr)ugh 
quite a tube without sudden shock to the delicate 
drum of the ear. This i\\-\\\w is sr) delicate as to 
re[)eat the vibrations very truly to tlie queer little 
bones which touch each other behind it, and the 
vibrations are carefully carried on, winding gently 
to the connections with the nerve which i)erceives 
it for the brain'. Very nice care has been taken 
that we may hear. If you should see the whole 
machinery of the ear, you would wonder at the 
wise contrivance. 



I/O Noir SHALL Mv c//lll:> be taugllt? 

Fa)iny. — Why cannot Alice hear as well as we ? 
Her ear is just as good. 

TcacJici'. — Alice had scarlet fever once, which 
destroyed the drum of the ear, as it often does, 
breaking it down by some very poisonous matter 
which was near it and which had no other way of 
escaping from her blood. It pierced this delicate 
little drum, and wore it away entirely in one ear, 
and nearly all in the other ; yet the little bones 
are left, and the vibrations of the air reach them 
through the bones of the face and head where it 
touches them. Alice can hear a little when she 
opens her mouth. ^ 

Alice. — I know I can ; or if the piano is play- 
ing, I can hear better leaning upon it. Why .? 

TcacJicr. — The vibrations are carried through 
the mouth and by the teeth or by the arm to the 
bones of the face, or through tubes leading from 
the throat into the chamber of the ear where the 
four little bones are. The outer ear is a protec- 
tion to all the nicer and interior parts of the organ 
of hearing. A waxy substance surrounds the tube 
of the outer ear to keep out anything which might 
otherwise touch the drum. We should never put 
anything hard or sharp beyond this, for fear of 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. I /I 

piercing the drum. Some sound-waves are so 
strong that they are perceived also by other parts 
of the body, as for instance the firing of a cannon 
or heavy thunder, making the whole air shake ; 
but the ear is especially arranged, — made exactly 
so as to gather and carry the delicate vibrations of 
usual sound, which we could not otherwise know. 
Now let us attend to the sense of smell. What is 
its organ } 

Answer. ■ — The nose. 

TeacJier. — There is something which we call 
perfume ; it would be hard to say what it 
is ; sometimes it is agreeable to us, and some- 
times not. We cannot tell why, but it is very 
decided. 

Hat tic. — How queer it is ! I am trying to 
think what perfume can be, but I am not able 
to explain it. 

Teacher. — Now suppose a little flower, tuber- 
ose or heliotrope, is here. Why, it sends its 
perfume into every spot of the air in the room 
instantly. You perceive it at once and every- 
where, and will as long as the flower lasts in the 
room. If I took the flower out of the room, 
should I take the perfume out too 1 



1/2 //();/' sn.u.L MY CHILD JU-: 7\irufJT? 

Miii^xir. — No, vcui would leave what was 
aliwuh' in the looni still thoro. 

TcacJur. — W'ouKl it L;i\c loss jicrfiinio in 
another room, then. 

Daisy . — No'ni ; just as nuieh until it is 
witheiwl. 

Ti'iU'Jwr. — Isn't it \erv strani;e? SiMnethini;" 
cseapes from the Uow^m- as loni;- as it lasts ; with- 
out taking time to travel, without making the 
space of the iH)om au\' less, it tills ever\' part of 
it, telling us of the eharaeter of the tlower. 
C^ue little k\\\>\s of attar of rinses will send its otlor 
through a bi^ttle as tighth' sealed as we can seal 
it, and pervade, everything it reaches with such 
a strong scent that it seems almost imjH^ssible 
to destro\' it. What a wonderful qualit)' ! It 
reaches our brain thrcuigh little ner\-es spre .d out 
upon the inside of the nostril, and we ha\'e the 
sense of smell. The sense of taste is almost as 
curious, but as it ie(.iuires contact oi the cngan i^f 
taste, the tongue, with the substance wliich is 
tastctl, it does nc^t sccni c[uite so impossible 
to understautl. Look at each other's tongues. 
Look through this magnitxing glass. 1 bn\' won- 
derful! A little forest! The surface o\ the 



J'A'/AIAA'V CLASS IN J'JI YSIOLOG Y. 1/3 

tonj^uc is covered with little feelers which almost 
seem alive, and the flavor of what we taste comes 
to these so as to be conducted by the nerves 
which run from its surface to the brain. Thus 
we taste. The senses of taste and smell may both 
be injured or deadened by illness, or by abuse. 
They are intended to guide us in our choice of 
food and other things used by the body. They 
will guide us if they are in a healthy state, but we 
must not excite them too much, or train them to 
wrong uses. Can other animals use any of these 
senses better than we t 

Willie. — Dogs can smell better. They can 
follow a man by his scent. 

Prescott. — Setters can scent game, and show 
the hunters where to look. 

TeacJicr. — Animals may have some senses we 
do not understand. These of which we speak are 
the human senses. Feeling is the perception by 
contact with any part of the body, for the nerves 
of touch come to the surface everywhere, but 
chiefly in the fingers, which can be made very 
keenly sensitive by practice, as in the case of the 
blind. 



174 //(>//■ si/ALi. MY ciiu.n />•/•; tavght? 
IX. 

VITAL ORGANS. TllK HEART. 

TcacJur. — 1 ha\o ti>Ul )oii soniowhat of all 
jKirls ol the body except those whieli are kejH in 
the two chambers within its center frame. Tut 
your hands uj^on your left sides, i;"entlv iM-essing. 
What do you feel .^ 

Teddy. — I feel the little hammer that pounds 
all the time. 

TcacJu'y. — Do you have to keep that hammer 
sounding;- or beating by your own thought or will } 

BlaiicJic. — No ; it goes itself. 

TcacJur. — Here is the heart of a calf. Let 
me show you how it is made ; for vours, which is 
what you feel beating, is much like it. It has 
these two sitles, one which fresh, rctl blood goes 
through, and one which the im}nn-e, dark blo(Hl, 
returning from its course through the body, tills. 
The heart is like a pump ; it forces good blocnl, 
which has been purified, through numberless 
tubes, called artcrits, to all jxirts of the body, to 
build it antl feed it ; then it receives that blood 
which has become impure, back through as many 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 1/5 

tubes, called veins, and sends it into another 
organ to meet the air, which changes it to pure 
blood again, after which the heart again receives 
the blood and forces it once more through the 
arteries ; and so this goes on as long as we live, 
the heart forcing the blood through arteries and 
veins by this action we call "beating," like the 
motion of a hand squeezing and opening with 
great force and regularity. There are little 
doors in the heart which open and close as 
the blood rushes through, and assist in keeping 
its direction the same. There are little doors, 
called valves, in the calf's heart. They are so 
nicely arranged that the blood cannot go the 
wrong way. They open and shut, open and shut, 
with every squeeze of the heart. You would 
wonder to see the force with which the heart 
sends this current of blood through the body. 
The blood flies swiftly around, leaving fresh life 
and substance for every muscle and nerve, and 
taking away the waste particles that need to 
escape into the air. If you should cut an artery, 
the blood would spout out like a fountain, and if 
it were not checked very soon you might bleed to 
death. This heart is necessary to life. It is 



176 I/OIV SHALL MY CHILD A/-; TAUCII'J'? 

placed in great safety within the chest. It has 
strong- muscles to contract and dilate with un- 
ceasing regularity and great forcing power. If it 
is injured, death will result. The flowing of the 
blood through the heart, arteries, and veins is 
called its circulation. 



THE LUNGS. 

TcacJicr. — The organ into which the blood 
comes to meet the air and be purified by throwing 
off its waste particles, is a double organ, called 
the lungs. It is within the chest, like the heart ; 
it is the organ of breathing. Do you have to 
breathe } 

Daisy. — I can w^ait a moment without breatl:- 
ing, but then I have to breathe again. 

TcacJicr. — The action of the lungs, as well as 
the heart, is involuntary. You do not need to 
think of it or will it. It goes on regularly as 
long as w^e live. It is necessary to life, and the 
lungs are therefore a vital organ. I must also 
show you the lungs of the calf, and you will 
understand, better than I can describe it, how 
your own lungs look and act. Here are the two, 



PRIMARY CLASS IX PHYSIOLOGY. 1/7 

like red sponges, attached to tubes which are 
branches to this larger tube called the windpipe, 
since through it the air comes and goes* into the 
mouth and nostrils. These two lungs will swell 
when the air fills all these little holes or cells. 
Now take a good, full breath. Do you feel the 
lungs swell within the chest as a sponge swells in 
the water .^ 

Dolly. — I do ; and they push down and for- 
ward and make me grow large. 

Coiirtenaye. — I feel the cool air coming into 
my mouth and nostrils when I do it. 

Teacher. — The blood comes into a thousand 
little veins which line these air-cells of the lungs, 
and all that is bad in it escapes into the air in the 
cells, and it receives the life-giving part of the air, 
which makes it fresh and pure to go back again 
through the heart to the body. When the blood, 
thus cleansed, leaves the lungs, the air which has 
cleansed it returns through the tubes and wind- 
pipe, through the nostrils and mouth, to the out- 
side air ; this breathing in and breathing out is 
repeated with every movement of the heart and 
lungs as long as we live. Thus the blood is kept 
pure, and the body renewed and alive. But you 



17^ JIOIV Sl/AIJ. MY CHILD BE T AUGHT? 

can see at once that the air about us is hurt by the 
escape of this waste from the hnigs ; we must 
have fresh, jnu'e air about us all the time, or the 
blood will not be purified enough by breathing. 
Some air is more life-giving than other. You feel 
brighter and stronger in it. Out-of-door air is the 
best. If you wish to keep well and be strong, you 
must breath fresh, clear air. It will make the 
blood red and give you rosy cheeks. You must 
hold yourself erect and wear nothing tight, so that 
the lungs and heart can act freely and work w^ell. 
But do not run when you breathe too fast or when 
your heart beats too hard. Never overwork the 
heart and lungs by too violent or too long contin- 
ued exercise, like jumping rope too long, or run- 
ning when you are out of breath. 

THE DIGESTIVE ORGANS. 

Teacher. — There is one more organ which is 
necessary to life, within this upper cavity of the 
chest, protected by the spine, ribs, and breast- 
bone, and by that strong muscle below them 
called the diapJiragni. It is the stoniacJi. Here is 
the stomach of a pig; very much like yours. It 



PRIMARY CLASS I.V PHYSIOLOGY. 1/9 

is a kind of bag. This tube which comes into it 
from above is the gullet and opens from the back 
of the mouth. The stomach is the place where 
the food is made fit to be changed into blood. 
You can tell me a good deal about the food you 
eat, as it is made ready to enter the stomach. 
Grace, if you are hungry, that is when your stom- 
ach calls for food, what do you do with the food 
you have put before you .'* 

Grace. — I put it into my rjiouth ; then I 
chew it. 

Teachei'. — When you chew it, what wets 
it.? 

Grace. — Some water comes in my mouth. 

Teacher. — There are three little sacs opening 
into the mouth, under the tongue and within each 
cheek, that squeeze a juice called saliva into the 
food to make it soft. As you think of it, the juice 
starts from these sacs called glands, and you say 
your ** mouth waters." 

Prescott. — My mouth waters for an orange. 

Teacher. — Elsie, what cuts up the food in your 
mouth } 

Elsie. — My sharp teeth chop it all up 
fine. 



l80 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

Teacher. — How do you stir it about for your 
teeth to chew ? 

Edith. — My tongue rolls it around. 

Teache?'. — After it is all fine and moist you 
swallow it. A little trap-door opens to let it go 
into the gullet, and it is pushed along through the 
gullet by these little ridges partly opening and 
shutting, until it reaches this door opening into 
the stomach. When it is safe within, it will stay 
there if it is good and well prepared, but if it is 
only partly chewed, or will hurt you, after a little 
while the stomach throws open its upper door 
again and sends it up the gullet and out of the 
mouth in a hurry. This makes us feel sick, and is 
very unpleasant ; but it is better than to keep it in 
the body. You must be careful, then, what you 
eat, and how you eat. You will be told what will 
hurt you, what you must not eat ; and you must 
not eat too fast and swallow great bits without 
thorough chewing with your sharp teeth. Do you 
like to eat, Teddy } 

Teddy. • — Yes, when I am hungry, or have 
something very nice. 

Teacher. — How stupid it would be to eat if we 
did not enjoy it ! We should forget or neglect it, 



PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. l8l 

and our bodies would have nothing to make blood 
of; but our sense of taste makes it pleasant. 

Now the good food stays in the stomach two or 
three hours and is stirred about by the movement 
of the muscles of the stomach, and mixed with a 
juice that comes from the lining of the stomach, 
Zd\\^(lW\Q gastric juice. After this it is soft and 
gray, and ready to go through the lower door of 
the stomach into another part of the food-organs, 
the bozvcls, which are below the diaphragm and in 
another cavity of the body, called the abdomen. 
In this cavity, which is less protected than the 
chest, are the bozvels, the liver, the pancreas, and 
some other organs not belonging to the change of 
the food into blood. While the food is in the 
bowels, juices from the liver and from the pancreas 
mix with it. A greenish yellow juice, called bile, 
comes from the liver, and the food is changed, 
while it is passing through the long, coiled tube of 
the bowels, into something thin and white which 
is drawn from the bowels through little tubes into 
a larger tube which empties it into the heart to be 
mixed with the blood. 

This is the way by which your lunch which you 
may now eat is changed into blood that can 



1 82 jioiv SUA 1. 1. Mv ciiu.n />'/'.• f.uu; //'/'? 

become a part of your Ixxly, and all these or^Miis 
which work upon it are called the (/i]<^cstive oro-njis. 
])reathe <;()od air, sleep, rest, exercise, and eat 
well, and you will be well, and happy, and useful, 
and, I tliink, gvod. 



CIIAPTKR XII. 

THE PRIMARY TKACIIILR : HKR WORK AND HER 
FITNESS EOR IT. 

I. 

It is a ^ood omen for the future that the ques- 
tion — Who shall teach the little children ? — is at 
last thrown into prominence. If its importance is 
be^Innin;; to l)e appreciated by thou^ditful educa- 
tors, we may feel that the axe is laid at the root of 
the tree, and that the evils of its neglect will he 
finally eradicated. 

It is well iinrlerstood by those who have 
watched the develoj)ment of human life that the 
first ten years do more toward shaping individual 
character and destiny than any subse(juent dec- 
ade; that, as a rule, the proclivities and desires, 
the tastes and aims, tlie habits of thought and 
feeling, are ])retty clearly indicated, and the 
course of after life determined, by the environment 
and training up to that [)erio(l. If a generation of 
girls and boys could be put during that time under 

183 



i^[ //()/'• .S7A// / .]/)■('/////>/.•/•• r.irciir? 



the hi:;lu\st moral inllinMUH's. tho most int«.'lli;;cMit 
iiu'tlioils ol intt>lUH-lii;il c-iiltuio, aiul the ii'lino- 
monts ot pure social inlcreourse, one miiL;hl xoiuh 
loi" the nobiliU' ol llio nc\l ^tMicralion ol moii ami 
wcnuMi. ami iho saU-l\' ol soriolw 

Mow nuioh has iho (|iioslion ol llu^ (]iialilv of 
tlu' i)iimar\'-school loachoi' (o do with this proposi- 
tion? It is certain that luMO(ht\- is a stroni; and 
nncontrollahlo element in the prohlem. home life 
is its secpiel, and not tam;il)l\' withm our I'jasp ; 
hut tor the _i;iiMler part ol the i;ro\vinL; and wak- 
ini; hours of the c hi'.dien's li\es the\' are direetly 
in the IkuhIs o\ the puhlie school teachers. What 
a prolound responsihilit \-, t hereUire. coiniect s itself 
with the work ol these teachers, — the wellare of 
llie next L;cMier.it ion, the ilestin\' ol a race! 

Strani;el\' cMiouL;h, the impoi lance ol the inilu- 
ences smroundini; earl\' childhood is scarcely lelt, 
e\'cn by mothers. Ten) inan\- ol the children o{ 
wealthy and c-ultuicil houK\s aie ielt to the ox'ci"- 
si;.;ht anil companionship ol incom|)clcnt , per- 
haps vuli;ar, i)erstms. Thoui^hllcss women thus 
despise the pri\-ile!;e ol mot hei hood. The 
!;ic\it mother lu\nt ol l'^t)hel has shown in Ins 
" Mother SOUL'S " a j:limi)se ol the education the 



nil: ri;i.MAi-v ii.aiiiij;. 



1X5 



l).il)cs may receive; ill tlicii mot Iki s' lovin;^ ;irms, 
;iiifl wliicli llic mothcis m;iy ic(civc in |)i()'li;',;il 
icliiiii fioiii llx- liltic miiii.'.tciiii;; ;iii;m-1:, who ( liii;^ 
to llicm ill lliat l.iitli ill llic motli. r wlii( li Nature 
;;iv(.-s. 'i'lic fine:! liiiii;; the mollici c.in l)riii|^ 
from hci licit t. or bi;iin is (li;;nili<:fl hy Ijciii;/, j.mvcii 
l(j her child, and not h:ained in v.iin if leai ncd h^r 
iiim. 

Sect, then, the hic'idth ;iiid depth ;iiid h(i;di1 of 
the vvoik ol the I'liiiiMiy Teacher! iL is to loiin 
character, htiiin, ;iiid ;.o( i;il hfe, not, for one c hild 
alone, — th;il, indee*!, vver(t a task ol inlinilc v;iliie, 

hut for scores o( childien who rest, in hei h;inds 
]ik(t the plastic. clay in tli(t hands of the s( iilptru-. 
What a, line and stion;.'^ ideal must sIk; be capable 
ol loniiin;; ; what clear dis(iiiiiiiiat ion must she be 
able to exercise, t hat she mayconloim that ideal 
to indivifliial possibilities, and the indieations of 
nature in ea( h hidden ?_',enn of personality! What 
until in;', zeal and enthusiasm do(ss she need foj- 
rescMiin;^ dod's purpose from failure in the many 
lives so put within her flevelopin;.; hand ! indeed, 
the oppoit unity ol the j)i imary-school teacher is a 
great and heavenly one, and di^'iiihes the noblest 
life iA womanhood. 



1 86 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

II. 

The work of the primary-school teacher is, 
then, of the highest importance to the progress of 
a generation. It covers the most impressible 
period of life ; it demands the most earnest enthu- 
siasm, the clearest wisdom, and the most varied 
experience in one who undertakes it ; in particular, 
it requires intense sympathy with children in their 
tastes, in their outlook and ways of thinking, as 
well as in the singleness of their moral nature ; it 
requires, moreover, a capacity of childlikeness 
which is the attribute only of harmonious maturity 
or of genius. It is the unspeakable gift to become 
as little children. 

The primary school is the open channel for 
every form of mental activity on the part of the 
teacher, and the most varied knowledge and cul- 
ture. It will be strange if the most accomplished 
woman does not strike her plummet to ground 
more than once a day in teaching a school of little 
children. "I don't know" has to be said very 
often to the wide-eyed questioners. How perfect 
must be the understanding of that subject which 
v^e can perfectly simplify and i""o which we can 



THE PRIMARY TEACHER. 1 8/ 

lead the child so that he will know the way again ! 
He is the complete master of an art who can 
make it appear easy and natural. 

The primary teacher must possess a crystalliz- 
ing power which results in organization and dis- 
cipline till the assemblage of children is trans- 
formed into the school, and the parts become 
members of a whole. She is set among them as a 
magnet is laid on a paper of steel-filings ; they 
must obey insensibly the current of her polariza- 
tion. Through what subtle sympathy, tact, and 
insight must this controlling power be exercised i 
It is the organic force w4iich gives life ; the 
teacher must be the spirit of the school, producing 
order and unity and growth. The essential germ 
of school-life is the controlling sympathy of the 
spirit with the body, of the teacher with the 
pupils ; her presence must be an inspiration, her 
influence a deep and strong centric force acting 
through the warmth of love, and dying in the chill 
of disaffection and weariness. 

Let the primary teacher, then, seek constant 
inspiration for herself ; in the zest of fresh learn- 
ing, in the draught of thought from all its foun- 
tains, in the cheery influences of nature and social 



I So //OW SHALL MY ClUf.n FK TAL'GLLT? 

life ; above all, in the comfort, rest, and illumina- 
tion of the ever-present source of inspiiation 
which is the atmosphere of all spirits strong to 
love and to guide. 



III. 

Having considered the dignity and general 
scope of the work of the primarv teacher, let us 
inquire what are some of its details, and the 
demands it makes upon her mental gifts and 
moral calibre. 

I suppose a voung lady of that elevation of 
character and enthusiasm of moral purpose which 
seems essential to the conduct of such a noble 
work as we have indicated, to be placed before a 
promiscuous gathering of fifty or sixty children 
(Hit of the public schools. The first demand is for 
immediate organization. Whatever else is post- 
poned, the task of reducing this babbling crowd to 
(M'der cannot be delayed. Nothing can be done 
until all are seated ; then a quiet, orderl}- atten- 
tion must be compelled, and perfect acquiescence 
in the authority of the teacher. It mav be 
thouj;ht that this is an easv matter, but to manv 



THE PRIMARY TEACH KR. I<^9 

it is an impossibility. At this exigency there is 
required an executive abiUty, a power of leader- 
ship, a personal magnetism, an inherent faith in 
herself, which is the pre-eminent qualification of a 
true-born teacher. It is not a common gift ; it is 
not the necessary concomitant of a fine intellect 
or of a beautiful character ; but an expression of 
the balancing of the faculties, a native poise which 
acts like an instinct to a great extent. Its posses- 
sor may be blindly conscious of it ; yet, on de- 
liberation, doubtful of its possession until she 
comes into a position which calls for its exercise ; 
then there is no further uncertainty ; she can 
trust implicitly to it, assured of success. The 
gifts of mastery and organization are inborn, and 
are the momentum of a well rounded nature im- 
pelled by a steady motive power. One may learn 
their methods of application when she has their 
essence within her; but no culture can engraft 
the gifts themselves. When one who knows she 
holds these forces in her hand stands before an 
uncontrolled horde with the purpose of bringing 
order out of chaos, there is a tacit appreciation of 
the power by all within its influence, a conscious 
recognition of it by older minds, an unconscious 



19^ in)]y SHALL my cl'ild be taught? 

acceptation of it by younger but more impressible 
beings ; they feel that they are to obey, and she 
to direct, in the very nature of things. The snarl 
and disorder of all the tans^led threads of individ- 
iial assertion unwind and divide, to unite in 
harmonious system. Like the type-distributer 
into which the printer's pi is cast, it regulates and 
sends each element to its own place, noiselessly, 
and with exact fitness. Let another attempt the 
same office, and all is failure and confusion ; the 
hum of disorder does not cease ; the indifference 
and inevitable defiance of even children, placed 
under inadequate authority, deepens and becomes 
appalling, while she finds herself powerless to 
quell the tumult ; the force of her presence has 
made no impression upon them. Every successful 
teacher can look back to moments in her experi- 
ence when a pause, a doubt, a suggestion of 
insubordination, seemed imminent ; but acting- 
only as a stimulus to her will, evoked a quiet pas- 
sion of determination which made her mastery 
complete and permanent. 

See, for example, a fair, delicately bred girl, 
fresh froni normal school honors, ushered into her 
first school as teacher. It is a hi2,h school for 



////•; J'RIMANY TEACHER. IQ^ 

both sexes, about one hundred and sixty in 
number. It is the occasion of its inauguration as 
the first high school in the county ; all the prin- 
cipal citizens are present, with many others inter- 
ested in the project. As the young teacher takes 
her seat upon the platform, a maiden stranger 
amidst these men of weight and influence, her 
only companion there the principal of the school, 
— a man of middle life and long experience, — 
and no face in the room that she has ever seen 
before this eventful day, she for the first time is 
struck down from the absorbed inspiration of her 
consecrated purpose, and trembles as she looks 
around. '* Ah, T am so incompetent! why did I 
come here } what shall I do when those great boys 
refuse to mind me.?" These throbs of self-dis- 
trust make her shiver like an aspen for a while, 
and as the interminable speeches go on, the 
curious eyes of pupils and parents disconcert her ; 
although she looks with apparent calmness into 
the faces before her, she trembles indeed, and for 
the first time loses faith ; but when she is called 
upon to lead half the school to a separate school- 
room and take them in sole charge, the emer- 
gency summons all her reserves of nerve and will ; 



19^ I/O IV SI/ALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

the tremor of doubt is swept away by a i2^rcat wave 
of assurance, and when she stands before those 
over whom, though scarcely separated by years, 
she has been placed in authority, her strength 
seems to her invulnerable. With quiet mien, but 
with unflinching firmness, she meets each gaze of 
inquiry, and checks each glance of doubtful 
scrutiny ; her genius for contiol has asserted 
itself, and the reins are firmly within her thrilling 
grasp. All serious issue between her scholars 
and herself is forever silenced. Her clear, quiet 
tones break the confirmed hush, as she directs 
them to the work of the hour ; the few older boys, 
who have been the terror of the district school, 
look about hesitatingly, to find that their role is 
left out, and loyalty is their best subterfuge ; 
while all gravitate unconsciously to control, as a 
disordered heap of steel-filings arrange themselves 
about the magnetic needle laid upon them, in 
lines of order and symmetry. 

This power of control and organization is still 
more spontaneous in its exercise and complete in 
its influence upon an assemblage of younger chil- 
dren. About two hundred girls had been gath- 
ered from the alleys and cellars of a city by 



THE PRIMARY TEACHER. 193 

benevolent and cultured youn^^ ladies and brought 
together to form a sewing-school. Not one of the 
young ladies present could succeed in reducing 
them to sufficient quiet to make any directions 
heard. One after another had tried in vain ; 
some rang the bell loudly ; others rapped on the 
table; others attempted to raise their voices above 
the general uproar ; others went among the horde 
and tried to persuade, l^ut al^. was of no avail; 
nothing was done toward organizing the unruly 
crowd until the youngest teacher arrived late ; her 
companions came to her in (Hsmay. "What can 
we do.? We have tried our best to bring them to 
order, but they will not hear, nor even sit down ; 
do try, if you can do anythin;^^" This young lady 
knew her power ; it had been trained .'ind proved. 
She stepped to the platform and aske;l the other 
teachers to be seated there. She then turned to 
the assemblage before her. She neiUier rang the 
bell nor spoke, but, coming forward as near to tlie 
seething surface as she could, she cast the force of 
that magnetic gift of mastery over the noisy ele- 
ments. The lull began at once ; like waves 
calmed by a gentle rain, one scholar after another 
dropped into a seat at the silent gesture of the 



104 //('//■ SNA 1.1. MY ciiii.n /.'A' r.ircirr? 

Icarhcr ; in ;i Irw moiiuMits ;ill wi'ir subdued; the 
room \v;is \\\ okUt. Tlicii, willi ;m iusl.inl pcn'i'i)- 
lion of Llicn;ilural divisions and coud)inalions ol 
their various dt'^rcrs ol" a,L;c anil inlclli_i;oncc, she 
ariangcd Ihrin in cdassrs ; wilh a niro adaplalion 
of cacli to cacli, iniheatt'd thoir iwspocl ivo Icaih- 
CM'S. When sonic ol the ciiihhcn wimc afterwards 
asked why the\' did not come to ordci- l)efoi"e, they 
saiti, '* VVc (hd as soon as the inistiess came; wo 
weren't i;oini; to l)eloi-e." So she became the mis- 
tress of the stdiool by this natural appointment, 
because the L;ilts ol maslciy and oi"i;ani/.ation weie 
ii\ lier, and slic had learned how to use them. 

The Inst appearance of a teacher bidOre her 
pupils is usually a test ol hci" possession of these 
essential faculties, but b\' no means the onl\' oc"ca- 
sion lor their active use. They come into the 
arrani;ement ol every cdass and the woik of eveiy 
lioui', into the i)lan ol each lecitation and eveiy 
phase of the relation between teacher and pupil. 
When their dcxclopuKMit is pcrlcct the school will 
be destitute ol any i;erm ol insuboiihnal ion, and 
e\ery j^upil responsix'c to the idea, and will of the 
teachci-. In a school ol little childri.Mi, the teacher 
acts like a true mother, and the\' hold to her as if 



yy/A /'A'/A/AA'v ■/'/■.Acn/'.R. 195 

covered ])y her broodin;^ heart and niiiifl, hreath- 
\\v^ in a sweet atmosphere, whih^ th(;y hIor)m and 
ripen in nn])roken eontent lik(t rose-buds in tlie 
gardens of June. 

The details of the work of the primary-schof)! 
teacher would he hard to enumerate; but first 
and most apj)ar(M)t is the physical attention the 
children need in their appeal to the motherliness 
of the teacher. They must be clean before they 
can be orderly au'I ^^ood. I remember, in my 
nursery days, if we were restless and cross, 
mother would sometimes wash our faces and 
hands, brush our hair, -.wmX j)ut on a clean apron, 
and the nau<;ht.iness disappearcrl ; we could not 
have our clothes belie us, and we were* renewed in 
spirit by the physical refreshment. I woulrl not 
engap^e to be in any way a;^^reeable ox dutiful with 
grimy hands, a sticky face, and .soiled clothes. 
The teacher will, in some way, attend to this pre- 
requisite of good order. How can it be done with 
fifty children from homes where all this is neg- 
lected } I do not know, l)ut I have knr)wn a teacher 
wlu) did it for twc-nty years in a iioston primary 
school. This good woman had as thoroughly the 
feelings of a mother as though all the children had 



19^ 7/Oir S//AI.L MY CHILD BE TAi'CIIT? 

been <;iven her bv (iod. She bei;-i;ed material 
wlien she eoiikl not buy it, eut out ch)thes for 
them, and her heart tUL;i;ed at every cord that 
could Hit them up. I have seen her sewing for 
them all the vacation, in the self-forgetfulness and 
unconscious devotion of a mother, until she died. 

You may say this was the life of a missionary 
rather than of a ]nd)lic-school teacher ; but, in 
many respects, the path of both is the same path, 
— the spirit should be the same spirit. Let the 
sense of justice (of those who deal with that ques- 
tion) measure the compensation which such a 
teacher should receive. I waive that matter now ; 
but the teacher cannot think of her w^ages as her 
chief motive, or she is no true teacher. I foresee 
a possible charge of affectation in the considera- 
tion of this matter ; but I coidd not really act 
toward children, or in the line of mental and moral 
influence upon others, with the idea of remunera- 
tion in any sense a motive. The motherly spirit 
and the missionary spirit will cover a great 
accumulation of the detail of the work of the 
jnimary-school teacher, and transfigure most of 
what seems the wear and tear and drudgery of 
that arduous position. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

AN ADDRESS TO PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS. 

Primary-school teachers ! my associates in 
this transcendent work, I have longed to have a 
word with you. I have always felt an enthusiasm 
for our profession, though, in the blindness of my 
early zeal, I confess to having had a comparative 
contempt for primary teaching ; but after three 
years of teaching in the high school and academy, 
Providence sent me to school again to tinlearn 
that false measurement of honors, at the cradle 
and in the nursery; so that, perchance, the time 
might come when I could distinguish between the 
high and the low, the great and the small, and 
perceive that the material of childhood is the 
finest material that a teacher can possibly have to 
work with, the primary school her greatest oppor- 
tunity, and th2 honor of good v/ork there the 
highest honor that she can hope to achieve. 

As I pass through the city streets, I watch the 
197 



U>S //()/r .S7/.^// MV CHILD HF TACGNrt 

you!ii;stors dodi;ini; tho tr.uns. sittiuL; on I ho cinh- 
slo!u\ triulL;in^^ b\- iho ro.ul, plaxiuL;' in \\\c 
i;utlors; aiul 1 think. ** Tiioso .no tho piim.nv- 
sohool chiKhon who will i;o .ill duW and boistor- 
ous to thoir to.iohors, .uul lhv^\ will ho at thoir 
wits' oiul to koop thoiii .inoiui\o .iiul tr.ui.ihlo. 
aiul to lUn.iin lh.it rosuh whioh sh.ill ho vhMu.uuIod 
at thoir h.invls." h"iU\- i>r si\l\ oi thoso liltlo 
lH)hoini.ins lioopiuL^ in to \ ou d.iiU ! I Jo not 
woiulor at Noiir ilisoinii.iuotnont, Kolonns arc 
nooJovl ; not >v;o-.- than I wont \ solu^l.iis to a 
toaohor, tho .iholition o\ nnioh ol tho siatistio.^ and 
niunoiio.il r.inkin>;. hot lor s.il.nios, .iiul nuM'c 
poison. il indopoiuionoo ; thoso .no what \oa oiiL;ht 
to h.ivo .iiul will h.i\o .It [\\o<\ i^iant !"> wo dist.mt 
li.iw In tho nuMiitiino. \oii must hoar up .is host 
\ on in.i\. Tho work \ on .no oalK\l to Jo is .iho\o 
p. IV. .nul .illhoin;h \ on oii;;ht .it tho propor tiino to 
ol.iim .1 insl oo^niwilont tor iho woik it n on pnno 
vonrsoll oqii.il to ii. \ ot koop this niallor lar tioni 
wni .IS .1 motixo; it will t.iko .ill tlu^ lito .nul wiliio 
out ol \inir intlnonoo and \onr oiuUmnois. \ on 
aro doinj; tho work hoo.inso n on Kno it. .nul would 
do it without p.i\ r.ilhor th.m it should ho \c\i 
undone ; it is too nohlo a wim k, .nul too no.ir \onr 



7() /'r/MA/:Y :.(■//(,(,/. '//,]'///■/■•;. \<)') 

heart, \i) \>>'. riMtasiircd by riiffury. U you mtnly 
want lii^^li w:i'^cHf and teach onfy ])('j::l\\'j: yon can 
j^ct your ]ivJfi|L< by it, yoii ar(; not a teacher in any 
high sense of t})e v/r;rd. We rnu:st not be mere 
operatives or workers at a trade, but members of a 
profession, masters of an art ; we must ^o into 
school with tbis consecratirm to r^ur vocation, and 
we shall carry with us the fresh vitality which will 
give tone to the very poorest class of pupils, and 
the rria;;netism of our presence will crystallize 
even the rudest elements into order and symme- 
try, as the ma;<net, j^laced upon steel filinj^s, con- 
verges them into line;-) oi be;j.ut,y. These restless 
elements before us are evidently ready to attend 
for an instant to almost anything that comes in 
their way. How natural, then, for the teacher to 
follow this hint of i^easurable excitement, of a 
succession of images, and appeal to their constant 
curiosity ! Let her present things to the child as 
in a kaleidoscope ; he will give his absorbed atten- 
tion to this presentation of interesting phases in a 
prepared, but unannounced sequence, which will 
reveal more to him in a few minutes than an 
hour's task-work. 

I believe in the "Natural methods," or, as they 



200 //0]\- SHALL MY CHILL'' A'A' TACaLlT? 

are now called, " the New iin^thods." Terhaps 
their more i;eneral ditTiision is new, and all lionoi" 
to the eneri;y and positixe apprehension of Ihe 
man who has at last aroiisetl the attention of tlu> 
puhlie in their behall ! Tlie natixe restlessness of 
the child indicates the ri^ht course with him ; a 
frequent cham;e of theme, the senses leading, the 
mind followinp,-, growing and stren<;thening- anil 
rejoicini;' in ac(|uir:nL;- knowledge concerning all 
which his senses or his imagination scizj ujx-)n. 
Allow yourself to be in symjxithy with the chil- 
dren ; become yourself as a little child, abandon 
yourself to the happiness ol receptix'ity, and be as 
one who inquires and studies with them. Yet 
one must be master of a subject to give it to a 
child, to stimulate his interest, to invest it with 
that f'li-asurabic cxcitcDicut which shall absorb his 
attention, to lead him b\' what he has seen to 
what he has not seen, to add fact to fact as a 
result of his power of inler^Mice, — not as one 
would pile stone upon stone, but as nature multi- 
jilies cells, and as mind evolves thought ; so that 
the miiul is working while storing up, — not with 
a mechanical menu)ry merely, but with every fibre 
of the brain in harmonious and balanced action ; 



'JO rh'/MAi:y-S('//()()i. 7/-//r///'./'.v. 2or 

this is healthful and flcli^htful. It is rJisj^ropor- 
tionatc anrl forccfj work, firudgcry one way or 
another, which wearies and kills ; tlie balanced 
activity of tl;e hrairi, like the skilful playin;; of an 
instrument, keeps it in tune. The natural, not 
the morbifl activity of a child's mind, is j:>erfectly 
safe, and shouhl not be discourager] but satisfied. 

7'he question is often asked, "What should we 
attempt to teach young children ? " To read, to 
write, to spell? Yes, they must have their tools, 
— the dishes first, on which the dinner shall be 
served. How shall these be taught? 'J'he old 
way or the new way, as the inrlividual mind takes 
it best ; some _see how words are spelled, some 
hear better hov/ ; some want to analyze and get 
the letters first, others read at a glance, more by 
vivid imjjression of sight ; but with a slroiif^ desire 
to read and write, and an aroused interest in 
things, they will soon learn by any rnethorl. I 
have seen many a child who rear] before its 
mother or teachers knew it, through the force oi 
a spr^ntaneous desire, almost as one insensibly 
acquires a foreign language by frequent rapid read- 
ing without translation. ]5ut while they are learn- 
ing how to manage their tools they want food ; 



202 HOW SHALL MV CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

they will ask you all sorts of questions ; no wide- 
awake child will rest satisfied with learning to 
read, write, and spell, or even to reckon, while he 
is waiting for the grammar school. He sees a 
thousand phenomena before him, and he is deter- 
mined to know something about them ; if you 
deny or hinder him you do all in your power to 
stultify him ; you make him dull and stupid, if you 
do not drive him into wrong paths of inquiry. 
How many children are turned toward vice 
because prevented from learning what they have a 
right to be taught ! You may take your class into 
the fields and woods : can you avoid teaching the 
essentials of structural botany } can you escape 
something of mineralogy and geology among the 
hills and along the rocky shores } can you shut 
their eyes and yours to the birds, the insects, the 
myriad forms in which Nature is constantly chal- 
lenging them to learn and you to teach ? It is 
astonishing how much of the essence of all the 
sciences, leaving out the technology, you can give 
a child in just those exigencies when he really 
wants to know, and when, because the knowledge 
comes at his command, he will be able then and 
thereafter to command it. True, we must have 



TO PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS. 203 

all otir knowledge at command, for these children 
to whom Nature is whispering her searching ques^ 
tions will soon drive us to our reserves. Do you 
think you know enough to teach a class in physics 
in the high school ? That may easily be, ard yet 
you may not know half enough to teach it in a 
primary school. You may know enough of other 
sciences to fill a professor's chair, and often be 
forced to say, " I don't know " to a keen-eyed 
group of just these Bohemians the town turns into 
your school-room to be educated. I insist that 
the most accomplished scholar is not too learned 
to teach the primary school. Did not the elder 
Mill devote his great powers and acquisitions to 
the daily training of his three-year-old son, the 
little John Stuart, without a hint that the work 
was beneath him, — a school of one baby pupil for 
the most accomplished of scholars ! To usher one 
mind upon the infinite vista of human learning is 
a great task for a great mind. Yes, you are in no 
danger of knowing too much for your primary 
classes. I have heard of the failure of attempts 
to teach by oral lessons. I have thought it like 
the failure to provide a sufficient meal from 
an empty larder, or the failure of an effort at 



204 //(?//■ SHALL MY CJ//LI) BK TAVCllT? 

fine workmanship without trained and gifted 
workers. 

But }ou mav say your work is ah-eady set for 
vou, — to appoint tasks, to fill up programmes, 
and put the wheels on the track for the grammar 
schools to attend to the machinery. If that is so, 
it is no less true that these are but parts of the 
husk, the shell only of your sphere of labor. 
There is a deep, vital work which is your God- 
commissioned work, and will remain to affect the 
whole life of your pupils. TJic ardoi' for Icaninig, 
tJic taste for beauty, tJic aspiration for cJiaractcr, 
are all Iving dormant in them, to be touched by 
your evoking hand. It is these springs and " 
motives of growth that it should be our ambition 
to arouse, — these that are to determine the prog- 
ress of the children and to mould the age into 
which they shall breathe their force and spirit 
hereafter. To kindle undying fires that shall 
purge, refine, and exalt the life of the next genera- 
tion, — that is your province. 

Even the mechanical part oi your work will be 
better done for this inspiration. An elasticity of 
mind, and a subjection of the littlenesses that 
irritate both school and teacher, will unconsciously 



70 PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS. 205 

emanate from your well poised nature, so that the 
results of discipline are often attained impercepti- 
bly. Manners are taken by infection. The quiet 
lady who presides with polite consideration and 
unfailing courtesy will gradually develop that 
courtesy and kindness reciprocally. By your own 
gracious presence lead your pupils to admire what 
is refined, to recognize a lady whenever they may 
meet her, and to be gradually transformed into 
the same image. Lead them by your own personal 
example to see the unfitness of tawdry show, of 
pretence, of falsity in anything ; your cress, your 
bearing, your habit of look and speech will be 
reflected in your school ; your qualities will enter 
into its structure as the leaven into the flour. 
Let the glow of a cheerful face, a cordial sym- 
pathy, a pleasant humor, and even a hearty laugh, 
irradiate your school-room. It will freshen the air 
and invigorate both teachers and taught ; and if a 
frequent play of wit is added to the prevailing 
sunshine, it will be as fascinating and awakening 
as the dazzle of a prism in the sunny room. Go 
into your school under an inspiration ; educate 
your mind to be a clear channel for the truths of 
science and of nature ; teach your heart to send 



20(> //t>//- S/i.U I .}fy CHILD J<E TAVCHTt 

th!oni;h \\\c .n Um ios ot \oiir srhool lilo the lovo 
aiul \\w M\w\\'\\w^ o\ .1 bt.\uililiil ilKuaclcr. aiul 
allow Nour soul to tr.insniil tho lo\o aiul i.;ooilnoss 
(^1 (iv>i!. \oiir iiulwolliui; prosoiuw All that is 
i;ooil outwavdlv comos tViMu what is tnio aiul 
luMutilul inwaiillw Sho can transloiin the iihk\st 
matcMial to liiuMioss who is tnih roliiu\l. tlu^ most 
liaivlonoil to sol'tnoss who ilcals with it toiulorly. 
Ho all that \ ou woiiKl inako \ onr own ohiKlron, 
an^l K>i^k at each chiKl as il it wore iiuleeil 
\our own. 



ciiAi'i i:i^ XIV. 

TIIIC SCII'.NCI'; Ol' I'KI.MAKV 'IlwXr 1 1 1 N' .. 

I. 

Anv (li:;c(T»iin;^ ;iii'l I hoii'-lii fiil person wlio has 
w.il( lied vvil li 1 Ik: ;i1);.oi hc< | inl cnl ik'.s ol paicntal 
iiilci (•:,!. I lie o|)ciiiM;', life ol I lie liiiliiMli ])C\\)f^ CUn- 
not l)iil li.ivc obsci vc(l ilsinosl o'wioiis cii'lowinciil s 
ol hofly, niih'l, ;iiifl '.oiil, ;iii'l llie order in wlii( li 
1 licy ni.inilcsl 1 licnisci vc',. II 1o llic p;iicnl;il Ix: 
;i(|(|c'| llic ',( idil ilii- intcrc:,!, Ilii:. oi'Ni will he; 
c.iiclnlly iiolc'l, ;in'l llie ni<-tli(jd, ronflilion, ;inf| 
sphere of aclivily of <:very l;i' nity dnrin;/, llie -.ini- 
plcsl Ht.'i|;(' of individnid hein", will he diseoveicd 
as a h.'isis for |) ;yelio|(<;.d( ;d l;iws. 

As Ihe ;iltenlioii of llie edM(;ilion;d jjnhlie is 
more ;nid nioie (.died 1o such in vest i;.',;il ions, 
p;iiciits ;ind 1e;i( her:, will le;irn 1o '.liidy more; c:\n> 
fully Ihe plM-iioiiien;i of 1 he r)pci)in;^ nn"iif|. in 
snch slndy their sytnp.'it liy .'ind inlelli;M-n1. ;ipjjre- 
cintion will develop ;i. snre ^loniid for Uiu: cdu- 
207 



cational principles. Tho nioihor will no KMii;or 
v^truggle Mindly through tho niosi inipoM.mt \ oars 
of hor relations wiih hor ohiKlron, nuurin;;- tho 
synmu^try of n Uuro's dosis^n. loarnini;" onlv hv a 
scries of irretrievable mistakes how to train the 
in>niortal bein^;' : the teaeher will have a ehait lor 
l\is i;uiJance on the intiniie sea ot human inlluenee 
and endOvWor, as it is thrown around the formins;" 
destiny of human life ; and although earnest pur- 
pose antl imremitting eare ean never be relin- 
quished, yet they will bo direeied bv untailing law, 
and aet amid the illuminations (A established sei- 
eneo. 'IMus will bring the repose o{ eertaini\- to 
the anxious heart of the mother, .md s.i\e her 
many a pang of self aeeusation in the future, as 
she sees with pain the results (>f her ignv>r.u\ee in 
tho blernished career of wliieh she had eherished 
a spotless i^ie.d in her \oimg maiernlt\-. li will 
be no less \aluable to the teaeher to work in the 
realm of mind and smil with the assur.mee ot tho 
chemist in the laboraiv^rw ov the elect riei. in 
acquainted with the laws oi his material, which 
almost approaches in subtletx the essence which 
the teacher attempts to deal with in the schoi^l- 
room. 1 el the teacher .uul parent commcnce.it 



SCII'.NC/'. ()/' /ViV/l/./AT ■/•/.. KHIM;. 2()() 

once, llicii, lliis ;ill iiii|joi 1 ;iiil .',liif|y of llic l;iw.s of 
(|cvclo|)iii<-iil of llic liuiii.'iii hciii;;. 

'Ilic hiihc lies passive ;infl ;ilino:,l iiiif'on:;rioiis in 
ils iiiot.licr's Linus, .'is i;,Mior;iiil o( Iii', laciillics ,'iihI 
llicir uses as if tlic l.ivv of lidclily li.id ;iol conie 
to his assistruK (t. Ills ( odik* I ir>iis with liic owl- 
w;ii'| vvoihl, ;iih1 I he ;L<lv;iiit ;i;,m'S he iii;iy "_;iiii fiom 
thciii, ;ii(: wholly iiiikiirjwn lo him. 'J he hee hiirsls 
fioiii ils cell pre]).' I red lo carry oiil. the nijf^rc^alcd 
wi'.flom of his species, to hiiihl ils comi^licalcd 
cell, ;iii'l pill lo immediate and effective use all 
its esseiit i;il pfAvers ; Ihe yoiiii;; hi iile ;ii)iiii;il, mas- 
ter of ils po\ifion in the fiisl few hours of ils ,'iir- 
l)re;it Iiln;; life, ',1;n ts out with ;i iii;i1 iiie itihe.i il;i.nce, 
rind i;. ;ihle todiicrl it:-; niii;.eul;ir ;i( t ivit y iiiifl exer- 
cise its iiit (;lli;'_eiiee ,'is readily ;is ils j>;ii ciil ; hut 
the hiini.'in chiM, willi its etein.dly jMO^MCSsive life, 
jjioceeds very f^r;idii;illy to its iiihei itan(:(;, unfolds 
its powers, ;ind .'icr oiiim(;dates itself lo ils position 
l;y slow slaves. Iii;; uiiiul and soul, ;is well .as his 
hofly, ar(i in tlie fl.iwn of .ictivily. The hofly offers 
the intelligence the only w;iy lo ils en vii oninents. 
'I'he child (.in ;u f)iiire knowled;'/: only hy the ave- 
nues of his senses, and has first to discrwer by 
experiment h(;w to use the senses. He oi)cns the 



or>;jn ol si;>ht, .uul \v^}\\ .m.uks his ronsriiuisiu'ss, 
— lu^l .u oiuw jUMOOpliMv, but bv ^K\;;ioos, thiini!;h 
ropo.il».Nl v^i^poi I unil\ , rhiAMi;;h .ilniosl iiniuMocp- 
liblo ilo\ olopnuMUs ol sons.ition ho lools, .uul I ho 
oxislouv'o ol oMoin.il in.illvM is u^\\mK>1 to him; 
ho laslos .uul siuolls. ,\\u\ o\\w\ l.u'ls josponJ ; ho 
hoais, .uul soiuul .mswois to his luitiu.il susvH^pti- 
bilitw 1 lis ti.iinin;; h.is bo;;im ; X.Uuio is l.uthliil 
to hip.i, .inJ t.ikos oh.u;;o ol his i\luo.ition lioin 
tho I'ust ; .in\- othoi to.iolutij; iu\jst bo in thoiliuHi 
lino ol hoi inl.illiblo mothoJs. l>iiol .uul intoimit- 
tont .no tho K^ssons ; tho b.ibo sloc^ps in uttiM" rost, 
;nul ihon .iw.ikv^s to loooixo now .loiws^iiMis to his 
n.itin.il niont.il ;\io\\th lluon;;h tho sonsos, ;uul 
j'^hvsioal L^ivuxih lhivMi:;h tho instinots. PiMoop- 
tivMi, tho liisl ivsNohio.il .lol. is bo:;nn in tho bi.im 
tnivni;;h its ooniu\'tion b\ tho bovU' with oniw.iul 
phononuMui. N.itino to.u'hos In lopoatoil jmosou- 
t.ition i>l tho siibioot ol obsoi wit ion, whon tho miiul 
is lostoJ .uul .itlontixo tt> llu* sonso oppoi t unit \\ 
It \vi^ wouKl to.ioh luithoi. it must bo uiuloi simi- 
l.U" oo:ulitions .uul b\ tho s.imo plm. Wo m.i\' 
nuillipU iho v>bioots ot obsoi \ .it ion. .uouso ilosiios, 
slimul.ilo tho sonso, .uul rosp^uul to tho insiinotixo 
ilosiio i>t tho ohiKl's soul lor s\ nip.itholio tMijov- 



mcnt- 'Jo Ij^ht wc can add color and motion, 
which will awaken attention and excite plcanurablc 
activity of the Hcnftc of Ki;<ht. The complication 
of idcan thiiH furnished to the mind make» a 
Hirou'ycr i;npre«Hion and ^ivtn mon^ complete 
kfiowled;4e, a« well a» trains and develops the 
hen»e which i» the medium of idea«. Sympathy, 
attentimi, and fidelity to nature in the trainin^^ of 
the infant minrl and »ouI through the »en»e», w 
the fir^t Ktej) in the ftcientific education of the 
child. The trainin;;^ of the «enHe» i« the be^innin^ 
of the education of the body; the evolution of 
pcrcciHion and conHciouHnewK, throu;;;h the activity 
of the HcnHCH, i» the be^innin^ of mental educa- 
tion ; and the awakeninj;^ of love, de»ire, and will, 
throu^^h the nympathy of the parent or teacher, i» 
the rlawn of noul-education ; all of which, »o indi»- 
Holubly connected, munt pro^^rcHJ* harmoniously a» 
nature has inrlicated by every »i;<n of it» method* 
with the childhood of the immortal human bein^;. 

1/ 

7o prof r:ed with the trainin;;^ of the »en»e», 
which formh w large a part of the earliest educa- 
tion : th^; sc/jsc of »jght »oon furni»he» the brain 



212 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

with ideas of light, form, color, and motion ; the 
sense of sound conveys ideas of tone, perhaps of 
rhythm and harmony, according to the natural 
perfection of the organ and the susceptibility of 
the brain, or according to the judicious presenta- 
tion by the teacher of the sound-vibrations; the 
sense of touch has given ideas of hardness, weight, 
resistance, surface, and figure ; and the senses of 
taste and smell have contributed their appropriate 
but simple ideas. The work of the mother, who 
is the child's divinely appointed teacher at this 
period of its life, is to guard the organs of sense 
from injury, and to keep them in a healthy balance 
of rest and activity, according to the dictates of 
Nature. She will discover very early the principle 
that a rightly adjusted amount of exercise strength- 
ens any organ or faculty of body, mind, or soul, 
and that over-exercise exhausts and impairs it. 
This is a fundamental principle, from which her 
methods may never vary. If she would strengthen 
any faculty, she must give it active exercise. She 
will apply this principle so as never to do for the 
child what it can do for itself to its better advan- 
tage, remembering, as an unvarying law, that 
knowledge, mental ability, and character are to 



SCIEXCE OF rRIMARY TEACHING. 213 

be acquired through activity of the intellectual 
and moral powers, and not through their receptiv- 
ity. She will learn that enjoyment in the exercise 
of the faculties creates desire for more exercise, 
and gives vividness and tenacity to the impres- 
sions produced by that exercise. She finds at 
first that no attempt can be made to produce an 
idea in the child's mind except through the senses, 
and that most knowledge of the outward world is 
best conveyed to the mind, and most truly assimi- 
lated at all stages of its progress, by the direct 
application of the senses, by actual personal exper- 
iment, which is the type of Nature's lessons, and 
should be followed by the obedient student as the 
pattern of right education. 

Let the child handle, smell, see, and even taste 
where it is safe ; let him try all his instinctive 
devices for discovery ; destruction of material may 
be the construction of mental attainment and 
power ; incessant investigation is the order of 
nature for the child in his contact with the out- 
ward world, which is to furnish him with knowl- 
edge, with tools, with forces, and with power to 
use them. The province of the teacher as an aid 
to nature is to lead the mind to its material for 



2 14 now SHALL MY CHILD H F. 7\irC,IIT? 

olxscrvation, to conduct as far as necessary the 
order of observation most conducive to clear im- 
pressions, and to direct to the same end the 
grouping or association of impressions. 

As the education of the senses goes on, the 
brain receives a greater number and variety of 
itleas, obtained by percei)tion through sensation ; 
sight, sound, touch, smeh, taste, produce more and 
more complicated images in the mind, until their 
strong segregation results in the conception of 
units or things of many cpialities ; also in the con- 
sciousness of those ideas and of outward material 
existences as the combination of those ideas ; at 
last, identity, which is a consciousness of the know- 
ing self, appears as a fact to the mind, and the 
child's relations with himself have begun. This 
is a great era in the education of the mind and of 
the soul, for all this time ideas of moral forces 
have taken root as the spring of character. Ideas 
of hne and justice should both have been dis- 
tinctly outlined in the child's understanding, and, 
by the help of the mother, hxed in the heart. 
Some notion of cause and etfect, — of the neces- 
sity of cause, of the surety of effect ; some idea 
of the authority of the parent and of the required 



SCIEXCE OF PR I MA NY TEACH f.YG. 215 

obedience of the child, should have been educed 
by the mother's training, through sympathy and 
responsive love, or through rewards and punish- 
ments, acting in the line of right or wrong doing, 
according to the natural connection of cause and 
effect. 

There should be no arbitrary or variable dealing 
with the child's moral apprehension. Nature al- 
ways preserves the similarity of kind even in pun- 
ishing or rewarding, and is inflexible in assigning 
the instructive discipline of result. So should the 
teacher be, if she would evolve ideas of moral 
truth. She should present to the child's moral 
perception a living example of perfect truthful- 
ness, justice, kindness, sympathy, and self-control, 
so that the moral perception of the child may 
receive ideas of goodness, truth, justice, love, and 
power, which shall be pure and eternal, for of 
these images given by the mother from her own 
soul, and through her training of her child's moral 
nature, he will in time form a union of ideas which 
shall give him his conception of the creative and 
sustaining Spirit of the universe, — the root of all 
his eternal outgrowth of character. 

In this connection the trainino^ of the will has 



2l6 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

its constant place. It must never be broken or 
forced into obedience through fear. That were to 
destroy the delicate lever of all the intricate ma- 
chinery of development. It should be kept active, 
but subordinated to love as its earliest authority, 
afterward to its sense of justice and right, and its 
self-governing sense, which grows in the rightly 
educated soul as soon as it begins to discover its 
relations with itself. Obedience to authority 
through love, — first to the parent, afterward to 
the idea of a Supreme Creator, whose relations 
with the conscious spirit have become established 
by intelligent apprehension, — should be wrought 
into the habit of the child's actions by every influ- 
ence of the parent or teacher ; so the will may be 
made active in controlling desire and forming 
character even from the earliest childhood. So 
interwoven are the three constituent elements of 
human nature, so important the quality of the 
influences which are to develop them all harmoni- 
ously, that the teacher must never ignore one of 
them in the true science of education. 



SCIENCE OF PREMARY TEACHEVG. 21/ 

III. 

All the sensations, perceptions, and impres- 
sions which establish the child's relations with 
himself and other entities, may be rendered more 
heterogeneous and definite by the teacher. The 
senses should be constantly educated to take in 
many qualities, their coherence and relations ; 
impressions should be multiplied to give more and 
more complete images of objects, to enlarge the 
scope and perfect the quality of the knowledge 
obtained by observation through the senses. The 
education of the organs of sense should be con- 
stantly encouraged until they acquire facility and 
reach a high degree of sensitiveness. It were 
easy to prove that the susceptibility of the senses 
can be increased almost indefinitely, and the 
power of observation cultivated so as greatly to 
intensify and complicate perception. To approxi- 
mate the full evolution of the physical powers is a 
fundamental part of human education. Nature is 
always inviting the child to the acquisition of ease 
and grace in every bodily movement ; to the un- 
conscious activity of the powers ; to the fu 1 
development of the senses ; the thoroughness and 



215 HOW SHALL MY CHILD HE TAUGHT? 

nicety of their application to their material ; to 
the attainment of fineness and strength ; to the 
habit of exactitude and infallibility in the use of 
the physical apparatus. The teacher can heip in 
this direction from the first. Frobel shows us 
]io\v, — in the plays of the nursery and kindergar- 
ten, as he learned from the effoits and needs of 
the mother in training her child. The sight of 
the sailor, the naturalist, and the artist ; the hear- 
ing of the savage, the woodsman, and the musi- 
cian ; the touch of the blind, all illustrate the 
advance to which attentive and well directed 
exercise may bring- the senses as the media of 
accurate and complete perception. This part of 
the work of teaching may be so extended as to 
include the mastery of all the organs and func- 
tions of the body as instruments of mind, the 
control of the muscles, the healthy development 
of all the physical powers. This kind of educa- 
tion applies to the gymnasium, all kinds of indus- 
trial occupation, artistic training of the eye and 
hand, practice of every muscle and sinew, and 
conditions of the most perfect health of body. 
The functions of the body, the movements of 
every organ, should become as nearly automatic as 



SCIENCE OE PRIMARY TEAC//JNJ. 219 

possible. The hand of the pianist, the foot of the 
dancer, the organs of articulation, the sight of the 
rapid reader, all acquire an unconscious accuracy 
and spontaneity of motion which is the result of 
habii, and much like the automatic movements of 
the vital organs of the body. 

The instinct of the child demands constant 
exercise unceasingly toward this result of auto- 
matic action. And yet a wise regulation of all this 
exercise is an essential part of the teacher's work. 
No excess of material or of stimulus develops 
permanent power. A judicious letting alone or 
trusting to the sufBciency of Nature is often the 
right course for the teacher, whose judgment must 
always be guided by all the factors of the case ; 
the temperament, the reserved bodily strength, 
the inherited tendencies, and other indications of 
the child's organization or development must 
determine the amount of the teacher's assistance. 
Her direction of Nature's forces cannot be too 
carefully adapted to the child's individual necessi- 
ties. The play of the nursery, the out-of-door 
freedom of action, the occupations of the kinder- 
garten, the object-lessons of the primary school, 
and the mechanical work of any kind to which the 



220 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

child may be safely introduced, should be supplied 
in response to the demand of Nature and accord- 
ing to the measure of her desire. All the work 
which is given with a moral purpose should be in 
the natural channel of child-interests or given zest 
by some motive which acts as a cheering incentive. 

In order to second Nature in the intellectual 
training of the child, the teacher may assist the 
mind in gaining strong and clear images by 
repetition and practice of knowledge, so that these 
images shall be more easily received until they 
come into play unconsciously in effective succes- 
sion. The greater the facility of automatic mental 
action, the greater the power of the mind. We 
consider this kind of mental activity the highest 
within our knowledge. We must make it our 
ultimate object in the work of intellectual educa- 
tion, and aim to give the mind that final mastery 
over the organs of its activity which shall carry 
out all its great capabilities. 

And in connection with the cultivation of the 
body with that of the mind, and of both with the 
education of the soul, we should take advantage of 
the best conditions for the presentation of the 
mental pabulum. When the faculties of the pupil 



SCIENCE OE PRIMARY TEACHING. 221 

are stimulated by desire ; when the brain is fresh 
and unfatigued ; when its strength is renewed by 
a healthy flow of blood; when the appetite for 
knowledge is awakened by the natural proximity 
of the subject for study ; when there comes that 
pleasurable excitement and effort of the faculties 
which is called out by responsive enjoyment, then 
such exercise will leave a more permanent and 
revivable image on the brain, and a true and last- 
ing impression will be formed. 

The soul craves sympathy, which the teacher 
should not fail to give, as it adds moral exercise to 
the mental, and furnishes the soul with the tonic 
of enthusiasm. We must listen to what the child 
has to tell, rejoice in his intellectual and moral 
victories, share his delight in the discovery of his 
powers. Thus we help him to win further victo- 
ries in his mental and moral career, and experience 
fewer defeats of purpose. 

IV. 

In all the work of teaching, the mind should be 
guarded against injury by too great, or long-con- 
tinued, or unreasonable exertion. The bodily 
organs and functions should be kept in a health- 



222 HOIV SHALL MY CHILD HE TAUGHT? ■ 

fill condition ; no faculty should be taxed to an 
un symmetrical degree ; harmony of the bodily and 
mental development should be aimed at, so that 
one part of the being shall not defraud another, 
but each receive its fair share of vitality. There 
must be no cramming, no stimulating to the 
point of impairing the nervous strength ; nor 
should all minds be urged to the same plane 
of accomplishment. The individuality of the 
pupil must always be a strong factor in right 
education, and every tendency to mechanical 
grading is a baffling and defeat of the principles 
of psychology. 

The healthful stimulus of sympathy should 
accompany study, — not the unhealthful one 
of rivalry, which is the one too often appealed 
to by grading and examinations of school- 
work. 

The work of teaching is well begun by nature 
in the spontaneous methods of the nursery : the 
responsiveness and love of the mother, giving 
joyous emphasis to every new motion and attain- 
ment of the child, is a life-giving atmosphere, not 
only for the mind but for the soul. Let there be 
no thwarting of nature in her efforts to prepare 



SCIENCE OF PIUMARY TEACHING. 223 

the child for complete being, — the harmonious 
life of the body and soul. In even the earliest 
stage of development of the human body we see 
the germ of spiritual life ; this is constantly 
evolved. Responsive joy and sympathy are the 
first steps in that work. The young soul makes 
its unconscious appeal to the mother, to the 
teacher, for love, for constancy, for truth ; as she 
answers that appeal, so the soul receives these 
ideas, and forms an image which is as much a 
fundamental fact of soul-knowledge as the percep- 
tions and the ideas they implant are the elements 
of whatever moral or religious structure the grow- 
ing soul may build. The soul naturally believes 
in these perceptions as the mind does in sense- 
perceptions, and these faculties of the soul must 
be regarded as equally trustworthy with those of 
the, mind and body. The instincts of the soul 
are true and reliable; no untrustworthy phenom- 
ena should be presented to destroy that faith of 
the soul in its instincts. Let the whole work of 
teaching continually build up faith in the certainty 
of knowledge obtained by the perceptions, by in- 
tuition and consciousness ; this is one of the most 
invariable of nature's lessons. If we deceive the 



224 NO IV SHALL A/Y CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

child in any way, — if we admit anything less 
than the full truth to shine upon him, we do all in 
Dur power to impair the perfect faithfulness of 
nature's representation, and to confuse his idea of 
truth. We should present to the child's observa- 
tion and faith the highest ideals of emotion and 
motive in our power, that his conceptions of love, 
truth, and goodness may be clear and vivid, and 
associated with sympathetic happiness. 

We should carry out the plan of nature in 
connecting suffering with wrong-doing, and happi- 
ness with right doing. We must impart the 
knowledge of moral law through the natural 
penalties of breaking it, or the natural rewards of 
keeping it. We must learn of nature to let 
retributions fall in the channel of wrong action, — 
to make them of a kind with it, so that they shall 
become a part of the idea of right and wrong by 
association. We must make the soul's function 
of obedience to its instinctively recognized 
authority as nearly automatic as possible through 
unwavering habit in the earliest and most pliable 
period of existence. When the authority becomes 
consciously a divine one, it will supplement and 
finally supplant all others. As soon as the young 



SCIENCE OF PREMARY TEACHING. 225 

soul reaches the stage of self-consciousness, we 
should recognize the conscience as a divine 
authority for it, and appeal to it in all cases for 
the plan of thought, feeling, word, or action. 
We should lead the child to utter obedience to 
the rule of conscience, remembering that a vague 
treatment of the demands cf conscience produces 
a vague image of right and wrong, and thus de- 
grades the soul. Conscience will soon answer 
these appeals, and anticipate them by acting 
spontaneously upon all the child's moral relations 
as they come within his recognition : the relation 
to parent, teacher, and companion, to itself, and 
to God. Thus his connections with his fellows 
will be rightly adjusted, his connections with his 
Eternal Fa,ther will be more and more compre- 
hended and made closer, and the just rule of 
moral responsibility will be attained through the 
exercise and development of conscience. 

The teacher can also work in the realm of the 
natural passions and emotions, bringing motive 
and intelligence to their control. The excess of 
either can be shown to the child in its brute 
manifestations, that he may associate their un- 
control with horror, and understand to what 



226 I/O IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHTl 

degradation it leads, and with what creatures the 
unrestrained exercise of the passion would ally 
him ; he can be led to think back from the plain 
tendency of self-indulgence, of intemperance, of 
selfishness, of covetousness, of greed and anger, 
of violence and brutishness, by examples of human 
beings who have followed bad tendencies until 
they are slaves of their passions and cannot escape 
from the power of sin. The certainty of loss of 
power over our bad impulses by yielding to them 
should be made very forcible to children, so as to 
act as a constant safeguard, and the acquired 
power of self-control which follows the exercise of 
it should be made a constant incentive to right 
action. 

As soon as the child begins to inquire, — as he 
surely does when the ideas gained through sense- 
perception begin to accumulate, — of the origin 
and sustenance of all things, the image of one 
universal Creator and Sustainer should be pre- 
sented to his consciousness ; his own individual 
connection with this Being by instant dependence 
of life should be associated immediately with this 
image. This spiritual Personality he will invest 
with the most attractive ideas and attributes 



SCIENCE OF PIUMARY TEACFIhVG. 22/ 

within his knowledge, and his love and reverence 
will be aroused by this association. His spiritual 
consciousness, as well as his mental perception 
and intuitive ideas of causation, will make this 
idea a reality to him ; let no profane teacher 
introduce a doubt into his consciousness ; it is 
the atmosphere of his soul, and must be responded 
to by the teacher ; it will guide him in the choice 
of truth, in the selection and assimilation of soul- 
nourishment, until it defines and controls his re- 
lations with all conscious and unconscious being. 

A candid study of the normal development of 
the child-nature must confirm the actuality of 
this ever-present soul-image. The faithful and 
sufficient teacher will seek to minister to its 
demands as uniformly, consistently, and con- 
scientiously as to the needs of mind and body. 
To work in the full light of psychological princi- 
ples involves the attempt to develop and train 
the senses of the soul which connect the human 
being with its eternal relationships. The soul- 
faculties come within the legitimate scope of the 
teacher's work, and form the highest factor in the 
process of education. No unhappiness, no dread, 
no fear should enter into the imacre of the divine 



Personality through the abnormal conceptions of 
the teacher ; no iincertaint]^ of moral convictions, 
no doubt of religious perceptions, no unnatural 
impersonality should be offered bv the teacher to 
blur the image which has been formed in the 
soul ; no obstacle should be thrust in the way of 
the child's religious progress. No secondary 
cause or medium of operation, as law of method 
or result, should usurp the throne or divide the 
power or obliterate the outline of the omnipresent 
Personality in all His works and in all His w^ays, 
the expression of His uniform methods acting 
upon all His material and immaterial creation. 
Pain and pleasure, all the experiences of con- 
sciousness, should add and accumulate force to 
the moral and religious perceptions, and to the 
distinctness and completeness of the image 
formed by the soul. We must build into the 
child's mind a desire and determination for truth, 
purity, love, and obedience to conscience, and 
produce as clear and attractive conceptions of 
these attributes as possible. We must answer by 
sympathetic suggestion all the questions which 
arise in his soul in connection with these con- 
ceptions and his intuitions. We must never fail 



SClEiVCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 229 

in candor, never make compromises with truth 
while acknowledging the Hmitations of human 
perception, which, though it will not mislead, 
must often prevent the perfect apprehension of 
spiritual truth. We must encourage the expec- 
tant attitude of the soul toward the solutions of a 
larger experience and more complete obedience, 
and the revelations of eternity. We must teach 
faith in the soul's convictions at every stage of its 
progress, faith in the integrity of God's expressions 
through the laws and operations of nature and 
their analogy to spiritual life by reason of the 
harmony of God's plans ; and we must inculcate 
an utter trust in the unchangeable relations of 
the soul with its Maker. We must enlarge and 
not cramp the activities of the soul, combinino- 
them with all other activities so that there shall 
be no morbid or disproportionate development, 
but so that harmony of being shall produce happi- 
ness and health, and tend to the rectification of 
all errors of thought, feeling, or action. 

In the whole work of teaching, — not excepting 
but, on the contrary, emphasizing, the earlier 
period, — the development and strengthening of 
the moral powers, the evolution of a dominant 



230 //(;//' SHALL J/]' ClllLP nr. TAL\;iIT? 

and permeating- spirit of truth, purity, reverence, 
and love, the building- up of the character, the 
nourishment of the soul, shouUl be the highest 
object, because the supreme and immortal germ 
of human life. 



The training of the will is secondary in impor- 
tance only to the training of the soul. It is the 
agent of the mind and soul, and must be able at 
their call to control the appetites, the passions, 
conduct, and desires, as well as to direct the 
muscles, the senses, and the thought. It there- 
fore constructs the mental and moral habit, which 
at last determines the quality and destiny of the 
immortal being. Force of will is indispensable to 
strength of character or effectiveness of intellect, 
and, in a great measure, to the healthful activity 
of the physical functions. It is )et an unsettled 
problem how far the conditit)n of the body is 
dependent on the will, but the tendency of hygi- 
enic science emphasizes that dependence more 
and more. An attractive and promising )-outh 
often comes to a barren maturity through an un- 
developed will, and again an undisciplined will 



SCIENCR OF PRIMARY 7 7-: A CI// j A;. 2.3 1 

often leads to self-destruction ; in either case the 
failure to educate and train the will makes a fail- 
ure of life itself. 

A culture of the will is a necessity of right cul- 
ture for body, mind, and soul. It must be re- 
membered that the fundamental law of growth by 
exercise is as applicable to the will as to any other 
power of man or nature. The will must be kept 
active in the child by leading him to determine 
and work for himself. If he is driven blindly to 
the accomplishment of the task set for him, he will 
never develop the power to set tasks for himself 
and put himself to work, which is his only chance 
for real achievement of either power or result. 
Give motive and stimulus sufficient to arouse the 
will until it commands the faculties successfully. 
It is immediate, clear, and decisive action which 
best defines the mental and moral ideas, executes 
their purposes, and evolves the will-power. In- 
decision, postponement, and evasion make the v/ill 
-weak and gradually powerless to control the ac- 
tivities. Children should not be advised when 
they are competent to advise themselves, but 
thrown upon their own resources for determina- 
tion of aim and means as far as possible. The 



232 HOIV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

child who prefers to have questions of conduct or 
thought decided for him, who always asks to be 
told what to do, and how and when to do it, 
should be denied all such help where he has the 
means of judging and acting without it. A habit 
of promptness in decision and action is a great 
step in the education of the will. The psycho- 
logic law that habit tends to automatic action is as 
applicable to the will as to the mind or body ; this 
law may be presented and illustrated so as to 
become a most effectual incentive to the right 
exercise of the will in directing and controlling all 
the faculties. This automatic tendency is the key 
to destiny, for by its law habit becomes fixed in an 
unchangeable state of mind and character which 
even desire has no power to prevent or terminate, 
and the man becomes the victim of his unregu- 
lated or feeble will. 

The right development of the will must be the 
constant aim of the teacher, as it is the greatest 
hope for attainment of either intellect or char- 
acter. If there is but a feeble will-power, the 
effort of the teacher at first must be mainly 
toward the strengthening of it. If it is accessible 
by the stimulus of interest and desire, by all 



SCIENCE OE PRIMARY TEACHING. 233 

means attack it in that direction and through the 
safest channels ; but, if necessary, develop it by 
the spur of antagonism and resistance, as Nature 
so often docs. When we see the waif cast upon 
the selfish world, fighting his defenceless way to 
manhood, we may abate some of our pity as we 
observe how Nature is training it by struggle and 
adversity to strength and victory over the adverse 
world and its own rude material, so that he may, 
by the force of his developed will, win the position 
to which the most cultured look with envy. 

When we see the cuffs and abuses, the conflicts 
and mercilessness of the boys who meet in the 
streets and the schools, we wonder why Nature 
seems to treat them so roughly ; but we must 
believe that all the instincts are wisely given and 
for purposes of training, and that they need only 
to be subordinated to reason and conscience, — 
not to be crushed or obliterated. Pugnacity, so 
natural to the boy, and so developed in one who 
has only himself to rely upon, is a valuable stimu- 
lant to the will ; and even fighting is beneficial to 
arouse decision and tenacity of conviction, and to 
develop that force of struggle, of resistance, of 
determination and energy, so essential for the 



234 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

rectification of wrong habits and the acquisition of 
right ones; and, when the contest is defensive 
and necessary to self-respect, or to the champion- 
ship of men or principles whose cause is just, it 
should not be prevented or discouraged. The 
pugnacious or combative instinct has been the 
lever with which Nature has lifted many an other- 
wise untrained human being into strong and com- 
plete manhood. 

Taste in all its applications and manifestations 
may be cultivated through every period and phase 
of education. Facility for true and beautiful 
expression in language, manners, and art may be 
the object of education from the first ; all the 
child's plays and enjoyments offer a field for the 
exercise of such facility. Forms and qualities of 
beauty may be constantly pointed out to him, the 
best models may surround him, and his apprecia- 
tion of true standards be developed. Efforts of 
expression, however crude, should be encouraged ; 
improvements always aimed at, although not to 
the point of discouragement. The outward should 
express the inward in the most attractive forms 
possible to the child's conception. When an 
utterly true and spontaneous blossoming cf a 



SCIENCE OE PR EM AMY TEACHEVG. 235 

beautiful thought or feeling occurs, as it some- 
times does in a child's progressive achievement as 
the harmonious result of mental or moral habit, 
the outlook of a mind and soul in free and joyous 
activity, then an idea of reverence for it as a 
revelation of God should be associated with it, and 
the consciousness of inspiration be recognized by 
the child. 

It is the whole human orsranism, in all its 
powers, connections, and aims, which is the 
material of the work of teaching ; and every ele- 
ment should hold in the effort of the teacher its 
rightly adjusted and proportionate place from the 
earliest period of education. Sympathy, — not 
indifference, antagonism, or hostility, — should be 
the medium of the teacher's influence. Desire 
for the pupil's advancement will awaken desire in 
him for that end, courage arouse courage, deter- 
mination evoke determination ; joy in the teach- 
er's heart will communicate its stimulus and lead 
to victory ; enthusiasm will kindle enthusiasm and 
create a vital atmosphere in which the child's 
being expands almost unconsciously. Intelligence 
should precede memory ; imagination should ac- 
company recollection ; Nature never set a child 



23^> noil- SUA! I MY ciiii n /.■/■ r.iriiiri"! 



to lt\'nn 1)\' rote; lliosc^ tlnn';s which imisl fhi:illy 
l)r siil)jiHii'(l lo ;in ;Ki ol iiU'inoiN' should 1)C 
;ip])ro;u-ho(l ;is :i (hsi-oviM \', ;is tho symbol of iik'iis. 
l\(.'S|)iH"t h)r \\w (.■oDimoii-scnso of iii;inkin(h l.iilh 
in ils loniuilat rd oxporioucrs, will !j,ro\v out ol ;iii 
iiiU'lliL;cMU ;illoiition to rosiills of thou_L;hl imd 
conduct, until rules ol science, cmxIcs ol morals, 
m;i.\ims of conduct, will be ;ic(.-ei)ted ;is guides lor 
action. 

'I'he writtiMi statement of tlie jcsulls of obscr\'a- 
lion, ol the spontaneous courst' of thouL;ht,ol the 
deihu'tions of reason, of the ])Iav ol imai;inat ion, 
should oltiMi l)e called foi- b\' tlu' tc-acher ; tills 
praiiice will lead up to an appiei-iat ion of the 
\ahu' ol books as the stati'uu'uls ol experts ; it 
will also (.'ncoura_m' indixidual expression and a 
resj)ecl for the claims of the indix'idual bcini:;, 
whiidi should be a lundamenlal principle loi- the 
teacluM' : the school J\h- ///<• cliiltl, - iu)t the child 
{(n- the school. Lead the child to conwt his 
independence^ bv the claims ol social ol)liL;ation 
and civil oidci-. but, ne\'erlhel(\ss, to rest in Iiis 
own personalil \', to bi'coine I ii'c in the nioxnMuenls 
of his own mind and soul, while conscdeut'e and 
reason show him how to hindei" no other iiulividu- 



SC'Il'lNd: <)/' rh'IMAh'Y 'J'/'l A C Ul XC. 



237 



ality. Lead him lo find and use Ids own material 
for physical, nujulal, and moral growth ; to adopt 
laws for In'mself and obey them. Train him to 
study ,'i.nd act for himself, anfl for ends he himself 
has fixed; a.nd finally, tr> " ;^et liis own li\'in_L;," 
both mortal and imnifjital. 



CHAPTER XV. 

PARABLES. LAWS OF NATURE AND LIFE, OR 

SCIENCE APPLIED TO CHARACTER. 

*' For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly 
seen, being understood from the things that are made." — Rorna7is, i. 20. 

Parable I. 

In the springtime of the year I went out into 
the fields. The farmers were sowing seed of 
corn, of wheat, of oats, and of rye. They selected 
the seed with care, planting each kind in its own 
field. 

In the autumn I went again to the fields, and, 
behold ! the waving corn covered the ground where 
corn was sown, and wheat nodded over the acres 
where the wheat-seed had been dropped ; the rye 
and the oats had not disappointed the farmer, 
but had sprung up from the carefully selected 
seed just as he had determined ; that which he 
had planted stood ready for the reaper, and no 
mistake had been made. 

Then I looked at my young children in the 
238 



PARABLES. 239 

springtime of life, and I said, *' We must select 
the seed of thought and feeling, of study and 
conduct, with the greatest care. We must sow 
the seed of unselfish desires, pure feelings, right 
motives, and high thoughts, so that good actions, 
pure hearts, and right conduct shall spring up in 
their lives ; so that sweet manners, beautiful 
characters, and lovely souls shall bloom and 
ripen in these life-fields, and a harvest of good 
and noble men and women may be made fit for 
immortality. Let us make no mistake in our 
seed-sowing, for we find this to be one of God's 
eternal laws : Whatsoever a man sozveth that shall 
he reap. 

Parable II. 
I often walked near the fields while the summer 
came on and the young corn was growing. I 
saw the farmer work early and late in his fields 
to loosen the soil, to cast out the weeds, and to 
guard against all manner of danger. I saw how 
diligent he must be in his business, watching and 
working and waiting, lest the harvest should be a 
poor one, and he should lose his labor ; so I knew 
that constant and faithful effort is necessary to 



240 //()//• SHALL MY ciiii.j^ /)'/'.• TArcirr? 

success. Then I longed to see the chiklren ear- 
nest and dih«2^ent, industrions and careful, both in 
their stutly and in their beha\ior ; for the fields of 
the mintl and the heart planted with the ]>recious 
seeds of knowledge and virtue need even more 
care than fields of corn, to keep out the weeds of 
wrong-doing and forgetful ness and laziness, lest 
the harvest of manhood and \vomanh(M)d prove 
poor and worthless, and the promise of youth be 
destroyed. 

For I knew it to be one of God's eternal laws, 
both of nature and life, that ivatcJifnlness and dili' 
gcncc are ncccssarj' to success. 

PARABLE OF SOLOMON. 

I went by the field of the slothful, and by the 
vineyard of the man void of understanding, and lo ! 
it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had 
covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof 
was broken down. Then I saw and considered it 
well ; I looked upon it and received instruction. 

Yet a little sleep and a little slumber and a 
little folding of the hands to sleej), so shall thy 
poverty come as one that travaileth and th}- want 
as an armed man. 



PARABLES. 241 

Pakaiu.e III. 
I held a little brown flax-seed in my fingers. 
I dropped it on the surface of the water in my 
glass, upheld by a thin layer of cotton-wool. In a 
few days white threads descended into the water 
from that little seed, and a green shoot rose into 
the air. Delicate leaves unfolded above and the 
threads below became a silky tassel of roots. 
The pretty plant grew and throve. Day by day 
the leaves opened more and more. Buds and 
lovely blue flowers appeared, and as the sun 
shone in my window upon the growing plant, 
seeds were born and ripened and the wonder was 
multi]jlied. All had gone on by degrees. Step by 
step, cell by cell, it had been built up, and bud and 
flower and fruit had come in due course. So I 
knew what to expect in my little human plants. 
Not the ripe seed all at 6nce ; not the perfect 
conduct nor the whole lesson at the f^rst trial ; but 
slowly, one by one, thought by thought, effort by 
effort, the mind and heart will grow. Surely but 
gradually, day after day and year after year, the 
child will learn and become wise and good ; for 
this is God's eternal law, that all things grozv 
gradually in good order, from less to more. 



242 J/OIV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
PAKABLE OF JESUS. 

So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should 
cast seed into the ground, and should sleep and 
rise, night and day, and the seed should spring 
and grow up, he knoweth not how. For the 
earth bringeth forth fruit of herself ; first the 
blade, then the eai% after that the full corn in the 
ear. — \_Mark, iv. 26-29.] 

Parable IV. 
A pretty silvery fish lived in a great cave. He 
swam in a silent pool within its dark recesses. 
One day travellers visited the cave with flaring 
torches. The beautiful lights glanced from 
pearly wall and pillar ; stalactite and stalagmite 
sparkled with prismatic rays ; crystals flashed like 
precious stones above and around. The little 
fish swam on, all undisturbed ; he saw nothing of 
all this radiance, for he had no eyes. The travel- 
lers examined the pretty fish. *' Alas ! " they 
said, '' he has lived so long in the darkness that 
his eyes have gone out. They have disappeared 
for want of use, and only a scar remains." WJiat 
is not used is lost. This I find to be an eternal 
law of Nature. 



PARAnLKS. 245 

So the child who does not use his mind- 
eyes, who does not observe and think and learn, 
will grow blind-minded. His bright powers will 
become dull. He will never be able to see all 
the beauty and wonder of the universe, because 
he has lost those eyes of the mind and soul which 
God gave him with which to perceive goodness 
and truth. He will become like the eyeless fish, 
dark and unknowing amid all tlie glowing beauty 
about him, with only a dead scar to show his 
unused faculty. Poor little sightless mind that 
would not use its eyes of thought ! WJiat is not 
tised dies at last. 

Parable V. 

One day as I stood by the sea, a swarm of 
glorious insects filled the air; they were each like 
a tiny steel-blue needle, darting through the sun- 
shine ; their wings were like silver tissue, their 
eyes like globes of light ; I wondered whence 
they came. 

Then a naturalist pointed out to me a muddy 
pool, and on the dull bottom I saw some brown, 
scrawny beetles, moving slowly by jerks through 
the thick water. "These," he said, ''will all 



244 //(>//■ SUA I.I. .]/)' ciiii.n J^J-. TArc/iT? 

become dragon-flies, the beautiful creatures you 
see flying on high ; hidden within each scaly 
form below is a folded germ which shall one day 
burst the shell and come forth into the air in all 
its beauty, to float o'er land and sea in light and 
glory." 

Now, when the childi-en are dull and stufnd, or 
rude and nauglity, and seem to choose the dark 
bottom of ignorance and evil, I comfort nnself 
with the idea of the folded soul within them, like 
the dragon-flies in the beetles, hoping it will 
grow within them. I would not have them do or 
think aught to mar those gauzy wings and far- 
seeing eyes of the soul that wait to burst forth 
into light and purity. I fear lest they should put 
out one single globe of those great hundred-fold 
soul-eyes. ''Oh," I say, "dear children, drive 
out of your hearts all bad thoughts, all selfish 
feelings, and do not harm that beautiful folded 
thing within you that is waiting" to escape, for it 
is your soul, and * ivJiat shall a vian give i)i 
exchange for his soul? 



PARABLES. 245 

Par A RLE VI. 

I saw, too, in regard to the beetles of the 
dragon -flies, that they did not need to attend to 
how the germ within them should grow ; they 
had only to act as beetles and do what they were 
fitted to do in the muddy pond. God took care 
that all should come out right about the dragon- 
fly, if only the beetle took care of his work as a 
beetle. 

So I saw that the children had only to do what 
is right for children, in children's places and by 
children's ways. God will take care for the un- 
folding of the wings of the great many-eyed soul, 
if only the children do as they are bid and behave 
as well as they can ; for God does His work for ns 
while we are doing ours for Him. 

PARABLE OF PAUL. 

That which thou sowest is not quickened, 
except it die ; and that which thou sowest, thou 
sowest not that body which shall be, but bare 
grain, it may chance of wheat, or of some other 
grain ; but God giveth it a body as it hath pleased 
Him, and to every seed its own body. 



246 //OIV SHALL MY CILILD BK TAUGIIT? 

So is also the resurrection of the dead. It is 
sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption ; it 
is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory ; it is 
sown in weakness, it is raised in power ; it is 
sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. 
— [i Cori7ithians, XV. j6.'\ 

Parable VII. 

I heard a man say that the baby was dead and 
would never know anything again. I could not 
believe it, for I saw the corn growing out of the 
quiet seeds, — a new life out of the old ; I saw 
the dragon-fly which broke forth from the dead 
grub-case where it had been hidden during the 
grub's life; I also saw the butterfly spread its 
wings from the lifeless chrysalis ; and so I was 
sure that the dead should come to life, perhaps to 
a different life, a more beautiful life, with new 
and more perfect bodies of which we cannot 
conceive now ; but of this I am sure, that the 
truths of God in nature are but pictures or images 
of His truth in the unseen universe, and the 
butterfly is God's word for Resurrection. 

"For the dead shall be raised incorruptible, 
and we shall be changed." '*As we have borne 



PARABLES. M7 

the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the 
image of the heavenly." 

Parable VIII. 

I sat by the rock at the sea-shore, and, as I 
picked up the pretty pebbles and looked on the 
huge cliffs, I said to myself : They are strong and 
good, nevertheless they are broken by the waves, 
nor can they grow and renew themselves like the 
cedar, or even the little pimpernel that opens its 
blood-red eye amid the sands. The flower and the 
tree have a higher nature than the rocks, for they 
grow and leave seed to grow again, and have an 
enduring wholeness and pattern of their own 
which is forever born again, while the cliff breaks 
into rocks, the rocks are rolled into pebbles, and 
the pebbles are washed into sand, so that instead 
of growth is separation, disintegration for unity, 
destruction rather than life. 

But a voice came to me from the pimpernel 
and the cedar, saying : "The sand and the pebble 
and the rock may also become as we if they will 
take hold of our helping hands ; for that are we 
sent to them. We call them through every little 
pore and cell, and reach down to them by every 



24^^ //Oir SHALL my CJULP JU'. TAUClIT'i 

root and ril)rc ; tlicy may climl) by our strong, 
clasping- roots, or creep up by our tender rootlets 
as by a ladder ' they may take hold of the cedar's 
grappling arms and yield up their mineral parti- 
cles till they are lifted into the plant-life by 
giving of their strength to its growth; then will 
they be transformed into beauty and wholeness; 
the crumbling stones will be built into ever- 
renewing structures of fruitful growth. From 
the mineral kingdom they are born into the vege- 
table kingdom, because they took the offered 
hand of the i)lant which reached down to them 
from above ; for all things tJiat ivili receive Jiclp 
froiu above are lifted up and born again into a 
JiigJier kind of life. 

So I thought it may be with the children. 
Teachers and books, parents and friends, beautiful 
nature, and the Holy Spirit, all reach down and 
offer their helping hands to the children, like 
roots from a higher and more perfect life. If the 
children will take hold of all these helping hands, 
these pure and inviting thoughts and studies, and 
offer their prayers to the liol)' Spirit, letting 
their desires and elloits respond to all good 
influi'nces, they grasp hold of hands which shall 



PAKAIU.F.S. 249 

lift them \\\), they climb by the roots of a higher 
nature, they rise from a lower into a higher king- 
dom. 

J^^or all who will ask and try may ascend and 
be born again into a nobler life. ^' Ask and ye 
shall receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and it 
shall be opened nnto you!' 



Parable IX. 

My little daughter brought in beautiful white 
lilies from the garden, and placed them in a vase 
before me ; Day lilies and Japanese lilies, exquisite 
and pure in their loveliness. 

And when I had observed their delicious fra- 
grance, their graceful outlines, and their queenly 
beauty, I examined them more carefully, to see 
how they were made. 

Then I found that all the parts were arranged 
in a most orderly and regular way, and that each 
flower was made exactly according to the 
pattern. The flower was in threes : the petals 
three, the sepals three, the stamens six, and the 
stigma in three divisions. Its construction was 
orderly, harmonious, and SN'mmetrical, as is every 



250 //oir SI I. \ 1. 1. MY cmi.n /u-: vaiu;///'? 

woi-k of (lod. Order and liannony arc lazus of 
(lod in Xaf/nr ; S(f must llicy be in life. 

I noticed especially in the Japanese lily the 
anthers vil)rating on the stamens so delicately 
poised, and on examination I ])eiceived a purpose 
and design in this beautiful contrivance ; it was 
so adjusted tJKit the pollen, the rich bi-own dust 
which ripens into seeds within the ovary, might 
be shaken down upon the sensitive stigma to be 
received into the ovary. 

Now I knew that all God's works have design 
and })urpose in their adjustment. Our life, as 
well as that of the lily, is arranged and contrived 
for a useful end by (lod, who, though omnipotent, 
yet deigiis to foi'm the lily as carefully as if that 
were His only work. \\\ everything, so the lil\' 
taught me, Goii has a loving purpose and a wise 
design. 

Paraiuj'. X. 

" Considi'K f/ir lilies, liou< llicy grinv.^'' 

I saw again the lovely blossoms, to study them 
still more, foi" they wei-e full of God's lessons. I 
saw the like parts to be opposite and to corre- 
spond ; 1 saw tliat, though distinct fi'om each 



PARABLES. 251 

Other, they were in a manner to<^et]ier and united. 
The fiovver was a union of opposites, and much of 
its order and beauty was owing to this union of 
opposites. 

So I learned that all unities are made up of dis- 
tinct parts, and that the most beautiful thing, or 
unity, is the harmony or reconciliation of oppo- 
sites ; and I was glad to think that the human 
soul, which sometimes seems so far from God, may 
also be reconciled to Him, and, like the flower, 
produce a beautiful union, a harmony of opposites. 
I learned that all that seems discordant, separate, 
or opposite in life, — as, for example, good and 
evil, love and hate, pain and pleasure, suffering 
and joy, — may be reconciled to each other, and, 
by their union, produce the most beautiful and 
perfect life. 

This is a hard saying, but it is tlie law of God, 
in nature and in life, that the most jjerfect union 
is the reconciliation of opposites ; so I taught the 
children to look for that union in nature, and to 
seek it in life, for it is the fulfilment of God's eter- 
nal law. 

Love is tJic fulfillino- of iJic lazv. 



252 I/O IV SI/ ALL A/V C////J) />'A' TAUGHT? 

Parable XL 

I walked with a geologist through a mountain 
region ; great granite hills were piled up to the 
sky ; the surface of their rocky slopes was covered 
with trees and shrubs, leaves and flowers ; the 
ciumbling outside had been converted into all this 
beautiful verdure and vcijetable life. We often 
struck a bowlder with the hammer and saw its 
veins of mineral which furnished material for the 
glorious forests that garlanded the mountain- 
chain. At last my friend, by the blow of his 
hammer, revealed a beautiful .gem hidden in the 
heart of the granite. " Here it is ! " he said, and 
handed me the crystal. All its sides were per- 
fect ; its form a miracle of geometric perfection ; 
its clearness and glowing lustre like the very soul 
of light and glory. 

Then it flashed upon my mind that the heart of 
the bowlder was so far from any opportunity to 
grow from the outside into the beautiful plant-life, 
it was so deeply hidden and shut up to itself, that 
all its energies had to work inward, and had con- 
centrated tlu'mselvcs in this work of perfecting 
and transfiguring the rock until it had become 
the ver\' essence (^f light and beauty. 



PARABLES. 253 

Now, why should I sucldcnly think of my little 
darling lame and sick child, alone in her poor 
home, shut away from learning, and from the 
pleasures of childhood, helpless and inactive as to 
her outward life, but so patient, so hopeful, so 
sweet and trusting and loving as to remind me of 
heaven when I went to sit down by her bedside ? 
Why but that she was like the hidden gem whose 
forces, not being able to reach out into life, had 
been used by God to transfigure her soul until it 
shines like a pure and perfect jewel. 

Therefore I would say to such as are shut out, 
— by poverty, by sickness, by circumstances, — 
from all that seems like growth and development, 
do not despair ; God will make it up to you ; all 
loss and trial He will compensate ; your unspent 
forces may, by his grace, work inward upon your 
soul, to make it perfect in symmetry and light and 
beauty, one of God's hidden and precious jewels. 

Parable XII. 

I had travelled from day to day through the 

prairie-land of the West. I had seen its thousands 

of acres of growing grain ; I had visited the great 

granaries, and seen the stored harvest ; I had 



254 /Joir SHALL m) cjiilp j>l: jaugiit? 



by the beautiful vineyards, and had seen 
the rieh fruitage and the vats of purple wine from 
the wine-press. " O bountiful nature ! " I ex- 
claimed, "bread and wine, eorn and fruit, gold and 
purple wealth of the rich land thou dost offer to 
man for his abundant food." 

At that 1 came to the noisy and crowded city, 
and visited the exchange. " What is all this hot 
and eager traffic, this contention and shouting .'* " 
I asked. 

*' It is buying and selling ; it is the selfish greed 
of man dealing with the golden grain." 

The grain waves beautiful still ui)on the harvest- 
field, or is heaped up in bushels of shining kernels 
in its granaries, or on the rail cars and lake 
steamers or canal boats ; this is its voice speaking- 
through the passions of man, and it is the voice of 
mixed good and evil, a discordant antl warring tone. 

I saw, also, men excited or helpless by using 
whiskey or wine, men who seemed changed to 
demons, drunken and bereft of manly self-control, 
and I remembered that the wine and the whiskey 
were also tlie fruit of the grain and the grape, con- 
verted to evil uses antl made to degrade rather 
than to benefit mankind. 



PARABLES. 255 

''Alas ! " I said, "good may be changed to evil, 
right to wrong, beauty to ugliness, use to abuse, 
by the lust and passion of man. The tree of life 
which is in the midst of the garden of earth must 
also be to man the tree of the knowledge of good 
and evil. Forbidden fruit grows in the most 
beautiful of Nature's harvests, good and evil are 
on the same branch, and a man must choose 
between them. Each of 'us must make his choice 
at once. 

Yc ca7iHot serve God and mammoji. Choose ye 
this day whom ye will serve. 



Parable XIII. 

I plucked a fresh leaf from the tree ; all its 
cells were full, its veins firm and strong, its color 
vivid, and its outline perfect ; it had grown 
steadily, supplied with sap from the stalk and 
plant ; it was so beautiful I wished to keep it. 

But soon it began to fade and dry ; its life 
departed, its cells shrunk, its color vanished, and 
it was withered and brown and dead ; then it 
crumbled to dust and blew away. It was 
necessary to its beauty and freshness that it 



25^ //Oll^ SHALL MY CLIJLP /.'/•; LA r CI IT? 

should remain connected with its source of life 
and strength. 

Thus it is with the mind and soul. Tf they 
abandon and forget their source of nourishment, 

— books, observation, and thought for the mind, 

— high conduct, noble aims, communion with 
God for the soul, they will degenerate and decay 
and become like the withered leaf or idle chaff. 
The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except it 
abide in the vine, neither can ye except ye abide in 
me, said Jesus. 

Parahlr XIV. 

A little girl was taken sick ; a swelling upon 
the knee made it necessary to keep her in bed 
for some months, and to keep her leg quite still. 

"Now," said the doctor, ''we must rub that leg 
often every day, or it will shrink and not grow as 
fast as the one that is well and can move about, 
for disuse weakens the muscles, and when they 
do not gain strength, they lose it." 

So it is with the heart ; if we are not loving 
what is good, we are losing the power to love it, 
and learning more and more to love the wrong ; 
if we are not earnestly desiring and striving to do 



PARABLES. 257 

our best, we are getting more and more inclined 
to do less than that, and tending more and more 
to do and to be our worst. 

Parable XV. 
High up in the clear sky flies the bluebird, 
among the first to herald the coming spring. He 
flies swiftly above the clouds, in sunshine and in 
storm, singing a joyous carol. His wings are the 
color of the deep blue sky, and here he and his 
tribe stay with their cheerful song from March to 
October, first to come, and last to go, and always 
finding something to be happy about, even in the 
early spring or. the late autumn. He is like the 
cheerful and trustful soul that pursues its onward 
flight above the clouds of trouble through the 
clear sky of love and trust. It sings its sweetest 
songs when the cold winds of discouragement and 
disappointment blow about its path. It reaches 
its home at last safe and happy because trusting 
in God's care, and finds its shelter and food, 
though the whole earth looks empty and barren. 
It flies at the call of God, who never misleads it, 
but guides it through the trackless air safely to 
the very place where it would go. 



258 HOW SHALL MY CFLILD BE TAUGHT? 

Let US be like the bluebird, and be sure that as 
God guides him and sustains him, so He will 
guide and sustain the least of us if we do our 
duty cheerfully, and follow trustfully where He 
leads. 

Jesus said, " Yet one of them does not fall to 
the ground without your Father. Are ye not 
much better than they } " 



Parable XVI. 

Behold the snow-flakes falling ! They are so 
white, so feathery, one would think them light 
and formless as air ; but, catch them in the hand, 
and look carefully, and you may see they are 
made of starry crystals of ice, shaped as carefully 
and beautifully as a flower. 

And the flowers of summer, too, are they not 
arranged in beautiful order, — symmetrical, and 
balanced in every part, three petals, three sepals, 
a three-lobed stigma, and three or six stamens, as 
if all had been counted and fitted exactly to a pat- 
tern of beauty } And so it is exactly fitted to the 
thought of God. It is the same with the jewel in 
its hidden bed ; God has cut it in lovely forms, as 



PARABLES. 259 

the flower and the snow-crystal, according to His 
pattern of beauty for the world and for the soul, 
and the flower and the gem and the snow-flake all 
lend their forces and their particles to carry out 
His law, which moulds them into beauty and 
harmony. 

Now behold the young hearts God has given 
you, and remember that He would mould them 
also into beauty, but you must lend Him your 
will and love and faithfulness to help Him do 
for you what He cannot do without your consent. 
Give Him your conscience to do everything exactly 
right ; your love to harmonize your soul with His, 
as the pure snow and the clear crystal and the 
lovely flower are in harmony with His plans for 
them ; your will in choosing pure influences, good 
habits and companions, and avoiding what is 
wrong ; then, as you grow up into men and 
women, you will have characters of symmetry, 
purity, and beauty, fitted to shine like the gem, 
to bloom like the flower, to hold up a lofty ideal 
as the snow-flake holds its delicate pattern of 
beauty clear and unbroken through wind and 
storm, that at last you may be set as jewels in 
God's everlasting crown. 



200 I/O IV SI/ ALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

" For the invisible things of Him from the 
foundation of the world are clearly seen, being 
understood from the things which are made." 



Parable XVIL 

Oh, the pretty little Housatonias ! a patch of 
their delicate stars here, a patch there, all over 
the low meadow. Let us look closely at them. 
In this patch we see four little stamen-tips held 
up even with the white cross made by the four 
lobes of the petal ; in the next patch the two 
stigmas spread out above the opening corolla ; 
the two kinds are always in different patches ; 
the sort that shows the tips of the anthers and 
with the open corolla has a short style which 
brings the two stigmas half way up the tube of 
the corolla ; the other sort has the anthers low 
and the stigmas high. The partridge-berry and 
the primrose have their flowers on the same plan ; 
and we ask what the plan is for } 

Now when the little insect, flying from clump 
to clump over the moist meadow, alights on these 
little violet-colored, dainty flowers for his break- 
fast, he pokes his tongue down into the tube for 



PARABLES. 261 

the nectar, he gets his face smeared with pollen 
from the high anthers, and as he flies to the high 
stigmas, that pollen is rubbed off by them, which 
is just what was meant to be done, for the pollen 
will only ripen into seeds when left in the stigma ; 
also, as he gets the pollen from the low anthers 
he carries it to the flowers with the low stigmas ; 
so he finds the flowers contrived for his service as 
nicely as any plan can be devised for a certain 
end. So, if you look at the laurel with its nicely 
arranged corolla in such regular rosy points with 
the tips of the stamens bent over, each in its 
particular niche, you see a wonderful contrivance 
for the bee to carry the pollen from flower to 
flower ; for the filaments are so many springs 
which will remain until the flower fades, unless 
touched ; but as the bee jostles them in his 
search around the ovary at the bottom of the 
flower, they all start off and discharge their 
battery of pollen-dust over the body and legs of 
the bee. Try it with your finger, and see the 
shock with which the ten anthers project their 
grain as if shot from a pea-shooter. Then the 
dusty fellow flies to another blossom, and while 
he revolves about the stiiima with his head in the 



262 J/OIV SHALL AfV CrilLD HE TAUGHT? 

tube he leaves all his bags of gold in that safe 
bank to accumulate interest while the season 
lasts, and at the same time he sets off another 
round of shot from the ten spring-guns, and gets 
loaded up for another trip. Isn't this a capital 
contrivance? And yet the bee doesn't know 
anything about it, and his part in it is an uncon- 
scious one, although so essential. The flower 
itself knows nothing of the purpose, and if it were 
conscious it might even consider the spring of 
the filaments and the scattering of its pretty 
yellow pollen, leaving the soft anthers bare and 
the little pink pockets empty, as a terrible 
calamity, quite ignorant that this seeming disaster 
is the climax of its growing activity, the great 
object of its destiny, and the aim of all its loveli- 
ness and symmetry. So is God's plan for us 
careful and minute for the fullest development of 
our powers, for the most increasing blessing of 
our existence. We do not understand that wise 
and beneficent plan, and wlicn our golden pollen 
of hopes is scattered and the accumulations we 
have delighted in are borne away, we grieve at 
the loss, and think God has forgotten to bless us ; 
but He contrives in the beginning for the end and 



PARABLES. 26s 

works all things together for good to us ; we may 
wither as the bright laurel-bloom, but still we 
know God's purposes for us will ripen, and He has 
marked out every step of the way for us ; for His 
plans are kind and can never fail, and all our tears 
are counted by Him. He who makes such careful 
provision for the fruitage of the flowers contrives 
as well for us, though we see not how. 



Parable XVHI. 
Did you ever see a bee fly from flower to flower, 
sipping its nectar and gathering honey ? Did you 
think it got its sweets for nothing ? Did you sup- 
pose the flower said, " Yes, honey-bee, take all 
you want ; I charge you nothing." No ; if you 
could hear it, it would say in your ear, " I make 
Mr. Buzzer do a brother's work for me. While he 
pushes his yellow head into my pollen-tubes, and 
tips his tongue into my nectar-spurs, I dust him 
well with the pollen I want to send to my neigh- 
bors, and he carries it right easily for me, even if 
he doesn't know it. Sometimes I sprinkle his 
nose with my little globules ; sometimes I stick 
bags of pollen hanging to his legs and poking out 



'CH I/O IV S If ALL AlV CLIILD HE 



TAUGHT? 



like horns from his head ; sometimes I open a 
trap-door where he doesn't expect it, and he has to 
go out the back way to carry the load I have 
given him. Sometimes I touch a spring and dis- 
charge a volley of pollen at him as he is sipping 
or tucking away his wax-balls in his side-pockets, 
and he is covered all over with the merchandise I 
want him to carry to the waiting flowers, where 
he will be sure to jro. I even <rct him to touch off 
the springs himself, which shoot the tiny yellow 
shot all over him, or fasten loads of it to his head, 
just where it will be left on the stigma of the next 
flower he enters. Ah ! we are cunning, and 
make the bee and the insect pay for all we give 
them." 

Now, little butterfly children, you flying about 
the garden of youth, have to do your part in it, 
after all ; you cannot enjoy anything without 
working for it ; you cannot take without giving ; 
you must do your share, a brother's or sister's 
part. You cannot learn without work, or play 
without earning the right to it. Think of the gay, 
happy butterfly, and the busy bee, as they gather 
their sweets, and remember that as they take they 
give, as they carry and work for themselves they 



PARABLES. 265 

carry and work for others, too, and no living crea- 
ture can live for himself alone. 

'' For the invisible things of Him from the 
foundation of the world are clearly seen, being 
understood from the things which are made." 

Parable XIX. 

Have you watched the twining vines, turning 
about to show their lovely blossoms } The morn- 
ing-glory and nasturtium, the clematis, or the 
Virginia creeper, peeping in and out our lattices, 
and holding themselves up as they seem to stand 
on tiptoe at our chamber windows ; you see them 
reaching out their finger-like tendrils, feeling for a 
support, and then, getting a good hold, they twine 
around it and draw the whole vine that way until 
it grows firm and can never be drawn away. 

I think of the vines and their tendrils as I look 
at my scholars ; they, like the vines, are young and 
tender, and unable to grow up by themselves, but 
hold out clasping hands to others as the vines 
hold out their delicate tendrils. There are many 
who offer a hand to help the children climb ; but 
there are also false supports, which give way just 
when they are most needed — and the vine, with 



266 //oir SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

its blight flowers and rich fruits, falls in the ckist, 
to be trampled on and spoiled. The little vine 
tendrils seem to know when to cling and what it 
will be unsafe to clasp. The growing tendril seek- 
ing a support often turns aside so as to make a 
clear sweep above what it would easily wind around. 
A wise man who has watched the slender passion- 
flower revolve says, " We may see with wonder 
that when a tendril comes round so that its base 
nears the stem, which it will not be safe to clasp, 
it stops short, rises stiffly upright until it passes 
by the stem, then comes back again and moves on 
so till it again approaches and again avoids what 
it must not entwine." 

So children, as they put out their tendrils of 
thoughts and wishes, can choose what to cling to, 
and, if they have come near what is unsafe and 
will not give support, can stop short and swing 
above it, holding up their thoughts with a stiff 
will and resolve to avoid the wrong. Their clasp- 
ing thought-tendrils will draw the whole vine 
toward what they have clung to, and the life will 
grow bent and strong in just that direction, until 
it is impossible ever to turn it aside. See the 
vine tendril twist and coil as it pulls the vine 



PARABLES. 267 

closer and stronger to its tie ! So the thoughts 
and inclinations of the child twist and coil into 
habits drawing the life and character as they will. 
Watch, then, your thoughts and desires that they 
do not reach out to false supports and twist and 
coil into unyielding habits which draw the soul to 
sure destruction, but let them climb ever up to 
the light of truth and purity under the clear air of 
heaven. 

Parable XX. 
I hardly knew that winter was gone, but, as I 
walked along the road where the willows grow, I 
noticed the furry buds alternate on the branches, 
so I broke off a few to put into my vase at home 
that I might watch them swell to yellow tassels as 
the days went by. The ends broken from the 
bough were wet, and, as I walked on, drops col- 
lected and fell from them. I knew it was the sap 
that had crept up the tiny tubes from the roots 
of the tree to carry life to every little twig and 
burst into bud and blossom. How wonderful, I 
thought, is the ascent of this life-giving sap in the 
veins of the brown and quiet stems ! It rises 
without a sound or any promise of coming that we 



26S //OJF SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

can hear, and it is only in the swelling bud and 
the opening leaf or flower we first perceive its 
presence or its wonder-working power. It is 
hidden, but ever-ascending, and at last it brings 
the dead world to life and spreads verdure and 
fruitfulness throughout nature. 

So it is with the impulse of a soul toward God ; 
it may be unseen and unheard, but at last it trans- 
forms the life, and blooms into full beauty of char- 
acter ; it is ever active, rising into every hidden 
channel of life-work, infusing its virtue and energy 
into every thought and word and act, until, like 
the sap in the barren tree, it has converted the 
whole life that contains it into one bountiful 
expression of beauty and fruition. 

I saw, too, that the sap rises not only in great 
trees whose years can be counted by the rings on 
their sawed-off trunks, but also in the little sap- 
lings of a summer's growth ; not only in the old 
oaks which drop a thousand acorns, but in the 
tender young shoots glowing with deep red leaf- 
buds in the spring. 

So the holy purpose of good living and the 
wonder-working love of God springs not alone in 
grown men and women, but in the hearts of the 



PARABLES. 269 

children, where it rises day by da}^ fuller and 
stronger, to make them grow better and more like 
green trees planted by the river, whose leaves 
shall not wither, and that bring forth fruit in their 
season. 

Parable XXI. 
There is a road on the shores of the Merrimac, 
not far from the home of the poet Whittier, which 
runs through a lovely stretch of pine woods called 
Follymill Woods. There you may find the earli- 
est flowers of spring : the Hepatica ; the Anem- 
one ; the Trientalis ; the Solomon's Seal ; the 
Strawbell ; the Violet : and, most beautiful of all, 
the Epigea or Mayflower, in all its pink loveliness 
and delicious fragrance. You may go there when 
the March winds are chill, or patches of snow still 
lie in the hollows ; not a green leaf has spread its 
blade nor the grass begun to spring forth, yet by 
pushing away the dead brown leaves from the 
stems, you will disclose the most delicate of the 
year's blossoms, the purple and pink Hepatica ; it 
looks up from the brown mould like the trustful 
eye of childhood, wide open and beautiful as the 
clear sky above it. Like all the flowers I have 



270 now SHALL MY CHLLD BE TAUGHT? 

named, it seems fragile and tender, not ready for 
the struggle of life or the rude blasts that await 
it ; but it comes forth at the call of its Maker as 
fresh and perfect as if kissed by the June sun- 
shine and breathed upon by the zephyrs of 
summer. 

I like to pass the noon hours of late March or 
early April in the woods of Follymill, for the 
sweet breath of the pine, the sound of the near 
river rushing with the freshness of mountain 
snows melted into its swollen current, as well as 
the sweet young flowers at my feet, all tell me 
how near and how good is the Father and Creator 
of nature and of life. As He is close to the 
spring blossoms, and cares for their tender loveli- 
ness, as He protects their fragile forms from the 
cold winds, and covers them with the dead leaves 
for warmth, or wraps their stems and buds in 
downy folds, so He watches over the children in 
their tender youth, and shelters them from storms 
of trouble, gives them hope and joy and love, like 
sweet, delicate petals unfolding to beautify life as 
the spring flowers beautify the woods of Follymill. 

Jesus said, " If God so clothe the grass of the 
field, shall he not much more clothe you?" 



parables. 271 

Parable XXIL 

A fresh green leaf stands up from the ehn 
bough into the sunshine. As the light gleams 
through it I see somewhat of its pattern of beauty, 
its frame-work of veins so symmetrical, its margin 
of points so nicely cut, its delicate plaits so pre- 
cise ; and I see still more, — that its fibre is filled 
in with little egg-like cells, all green and bubbling. 
What is going on in that pretty leaf ? 

Ah, the leaf is an exquisite factory for the 
manufacture of plant-tissue. It is just packed 
with the green, translucent cells in which the very 
water of life seems to bubble and roll. Each cell 
is a little loom in the leaf-factory ; it does honest 
and busy work all day, the sun and air helping it, 
the sap flowing into it, and the tide of life pulsat- 
ing through it. Each cell is not too small for 
God to come to with his gifts of life and light, nor 
too small to do its part of the work for the whole 
leaf; but its one part is just as great and neces- 
sary as any other part, so it works away, weaving 
and building into the leaf, until its pattern of 
beauty and regularity, its unity and harmony are 
complete. 



2/2 7/0 IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

My little school is a green leaf, and the children 
are the active and willing cells. None are too 
small or too insignificant to work for the whole 
and weave the pretty web of life and joy. None 
are too humble or too careless for God to come to 
with His life and light of love and truth, but every 
one can fill in and build in joyfully its part of 
order and harmony for the whole. We may say 
that the veins and framework are the rules and the 
teacher : they give the pattern ; each cell must be 
very exact and careful and put its work just 
according to that pattern, or the whole leaf will be 
out of order. .Each fine curve of the pointed 
QdgQ, each folded plait of the leaf is true, so with 
thorough and faithful work each distinct child-cell 
shall build up the beauty of the school-leaf, its 
growth and perfection. And as each little cell in 
the leaf is building the tissue of the plant and 
strengthening itself and the whole at the same 
time, so is each child building in for himself, and 
for all the rest, the firm tissue of mind and char- 
acter, and clothing all in a garment of loveliness 
and .ofrowth which shall last forever. 



PARABLES. 273 

Parable XXIII. 

I lay idly swaying in my hammock as the deep 
river rolled by ; the current was strong and swift, 
and rushing out to the sea not two miles away. I 
observed its steady rush, and thought of the force 
which had gathered it from the hills and brought 
it with greater and greater swiftness on its way to 
the ocean ; but when I looked again, the waters 
had turned on their course, and the salt waves 
seemed to be flooding the clear river with a might- 
ier power to push back its current again. 

"That is the tide," said my friend. '' I sit here 
by the river-cliff and wonder at its mystery. Up 
it comes regularly, twice a day ; then back it 
goes, and the fresh mountain water speeds once 
more, unhindered, to the great home of waters. 
What does it mean, this ebb and flow, unremitting, 
forever } " 

"" It means," I said, " that the great law of 
Nature, — alternation, renovating change, — is the 
law of life ; rest and activity, night and day, sleep 
and waking, like the law of the pendulum measur- 
ing the time ; it is the direction of God's hand in 
the working of the machinery of the universe ; His 



2/4 NO IV SHALL MV CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

finger on the wheels ; His swing in the pendulum. 
I copy it unconsciously as I swing here in the 
hammock ; my pulse beats to its touch ; my heart 
throbs with its motion ; the sea rushes up to the 
shores to tell us God's power is behind and within 
all, and that His way for us is that of regular ebb 
and flow. If sorrow comes for a night, joy returns 
in the morning. If we go too far in one way, we 
shall go just as far in the opposite ; and extreme 
leads to extreme. It is a law of health that we 
shall have this flood and this retreat of force, of 
feeling, of desire, and happiness. We must bal- 
ance our rise and fall ; we must measure our mo- 
tions as evenly and quietly as possible ; and let 
every alternation of life, every heart-beat, and 
every aspiration, remind us of the tide of God's 
love and power around us and within us." 

*' But," said my friend, " is it not of some far-off 
attraction and repulsion that the tide tells } " 

"That may be, too," said I, "for who knows 
what far-off fact or event, what influence beyond 
our knowledge, draws us or drives us ? Some- 
thing which we have not the eye to see, which no 
telescope can reach ; something in our history 
before we were born : something in our destiny of 



PARABLES. 27s 

which we are quite ignorant, yet affects us every 
day and hour of our lives, — but it is all a part of 
God's leading or withholding ; and near or far, 
small or great, is the secret touch of His finger 
upon the spring of our lives. Let our heart and 
all its influences respond to God's finger-touch, 
swing toward the high, even the unattainable ; let 
our thoughts swell with their unceasing reach 
after heavenly things, — and their tides, like the 
ocean's, will invigorate and refresh the current of 
our lives." 

The lazu of balance. Nature thus teaches us, is 
one of God's laws of progressive life, spiritual and 
physical. 

Parable XXIV. 
So, as we sat by the river, with the rushing, 
mighty tide coming up about the rocks and dash- 
ing its salt waves into the recesses, the evening 
came upon us. The river glowed with the sunset 
lights, and by and by reflected the great planet of 
evening broken into a thousand jewels by the play 
of waters. We talked and thought, perhaps with 
each other, perhaps with God, who seemed to 
have come so close in His tides and His stars and 



2^6 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 

the great blaze of His sunset glory. ''There 
hangs the evening star," we said ; '' it is steady ; 
and we have learned that it, with the other 
heavenly bodies, does not swing to and fro, but 
moves undisturbed in its great circles ; in the 
beauty of the curve its motions are set and its 
path has no alternations." So in greater perfec- 
tion of motion Nature pursues her course as her 
sphere of life ascends. The forces which draw 
the heavenly bodies are opposite indeed, but so 
truly balanced, so unbrokenly obeyed, that they 
move on in their orbits subject to no extremes, to 
no violence of motion, to no variation of aim, but 
with one eternal centre and an unwavering course 
about it. So the law of balance has become a laiv 
of rest in motion; and that is the law of the high- 
est activity. To that may our life-course tend in 
the eternal progress of our souls. 



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